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FOR HARRIET TUBMAN & FREDRICK DOUGLASS I lie down in my graveand watch my childrengrowProud bloomsabove the weeds of death. Their petals waveand still nobodyknows the soft blackdirt that is my windingsheet. The worms, my friends,yet tunnel holes inbones and…
When you see themon a freeway hitching rideswearing beadswith packs by their sidesyou ought to askWhat’s all thewarring and the jarringand thekilling andthe thrillingall about. Take Time Out. When you see himwith a band around his headand an army surplus…
Father,I wait for you in oceanstides washing pyramids highabove my head.Waves, undulatingcorn rows around myblack feet.The heavens shift andstars find holes setnew in dark infirmity.My search goes on.Dainty shells on ash-like wristsof debutantes remember you.Childhood’s absence hasnot stilled yourvoice. My…
My Fathers sit on benchestheir flesh counts every plankthe slats leave dents of darknessdeep in their withered flanks. They nod like broken candles all waxed and burnt profound they say “It’s understandingthat makes the world go round.” There in…
After Eli Whitney’s ginbrought to generations’ endbartered flesh and broken bonesDid it cleanse you of your sinDid you ponder? Now, when farmers bury wheatand the cow men dump the sweetbutter down on Davy JonesDoes it sanctify your streetDo you wonder?…
His soul curdledstanding milkchildhood’s right gone wrong. Plum-blue skin brown dustedeyes black shining.(His momma didn’t want him.) The round head slick silkTurn-around, fall-down curls.Old ladies smelling of flourand talcum powder, Cashmere Bouquet, said“This child is pretty enough to be a…
Your smile, delicaterumor of peace.Deafening revolutions nestle in thecleavage ofyour breasts.Beggar-Kings and red-ringed Priestsseek glory at the meetingof your thighs.A grasp of Lions. A lap of Lambs. Your tears, jeweledstrewn a diademcaused Pharaohs to ridedeep in the bosom of theNile.…
Even sunlight daresand trembles throughmy barsto shimmerdances onthe floor.A clang oflock andkeys and heelsand blood-driedguns.Even sunshinedares. It’s jailand bailthen rails to run. Guard grey menserve plates of rattlenoise and concretedeath and beans.Then pale sun stumblesthrough the poles ofiron to warm…
I almost remembersmiling some years pasteven combing the ceilingwith the teeth of a laugh(longer ago than thesmile).Open night news-eyed I watchchannels of hungerwritten on children’s facesbursting bellies balloonin the air of my day room. There was a smile, I recallnow…
She was afraid of men,sin and the humorsof the night.When she saw a bedlocks clickedin her brain. She screwed a frownaround and pluggedit in the keyhole.Put a chain acrossher door and closedher mind. Her bones were foundround thirty years laterwhen…