#Americans #Blacks #Women
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win