In the poem, “And How Could I Live On,” by Nikki Giovanni, she talks about the night Malcolm’s grandson, named after his grandfather, threw gasoline on his grandmother, Betty, and lit the match. Excerpt:
I felt him before I heard him::::::::Heard him before I saw him::::Called
out MALCOLM don’t do this to me
And he threw gasoline on me
MALCOLM don’t do this to yourself:::::Stop Now
and he lit the match
MALCOLM I called MALCOLM MALCOLM
and he tossed it
I’ve always believed that when she called “MALCOLM,” those three times, she was not calling to her grandson to stop. She was calling for her dead husband. For however long, she saw him there.
We still see you.