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Category Audre Lorde

The Electric Slide Boogie

New Year’s Day 1:16 A.M.and my body is weary beyond time to withdraw and restample room allowed me in everyone’s head but community callsright over the thresholddrums beating through the wallschildren playing their truck dramas under the collapsible coatrackin the…

Today Is Not the Day

I can’t just sit here staring death in her faceblinking and asking for a new name by which to greet herI am not afraid to say unembellishedI am dyingbut I do not want to do itlooking the other way.Today is…

Change

In whose beddid I lie asweatas the first thrush soundedtelling myself storiesof someone I used to behurling myselfat the unfamiliar shoretaunting the rocks’ long shadowtill the waves beat my rageback to spindriftand my wars came home? The girls who liveat…

Lunar Eclipse

Last night I watched the moon go out become a dark opalescent glowI could not believe what was happening even as I saw the change in light.The first time I met youwe sat up all night readingeach other’s poems morning…

Girlfriend

March 27, 1990It’s almost a year and I still can’t deal with you not beingat the end of the line.I read your name in memorial poems and think they must be insanemistaken maliciousin terrible errorjust plain wrongnot that there haven’t…

The Night-Blooming Jasmine

Lady of the Night star-breathedblooms along the searoadbetween my house and the tasks before mecalls down a flutecarved from the legbone of a gull. Through the core of mea fine rigged wireupon which pain will not falternor predictI was no…

East Berlin

It feels dangerous nowto be Black in Berlinsad suicides that never got reportedNeukölln Kreuzberg the neon Zooa new siege along Unter den Lindenwith Paris accents New York hustlemany tattered visions intersecting. Already my blood shrieksthrough East Berlin streetsmisplaced hatredsvolcanic tallies…

For Craig

If I call you son and not brotherit is because I praymy son learns your conceit your daring who came so late and left too soonIf I call you brother and not sonit is to mourn my own lossthat my…

Speechless

At the foot of the steps a forest strewn with breadcrumb fingers sticky with lossstuffed with seductive chaotic songslike a goose bound for the ovengiddy trees wait shaken.In the wild arms of a twilit birchthe void of course moon hangs…

Construction

Timber seasons betterif it is cut in the fourth quarterof a barren sign. In Cancerthe most fertile of skysignsI shall build a housethat will stand forever.