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Children we have not bornebedevil us by becomingthemselvespainfully sharp and unavoidablelike a needle in our flesh. Coming home on the subway from a PTA meetingof minds committed like murderor suicideto their own private strugglea long-legged girl with a horse in…
How do you spell change like frayed slogan underwearwith the emptied can of yesterdays’ meaningswith yesterdays’ names?And what does the we-bird see withwho has lost its I’s? There is nothing beautiful left in the streets of this city.I have come…
Haunted by poems beginning with Iseek out those whom I love who are deafto whatever does not destroyor curse the old ways that did not serve uswhile history falters and our poets are dyingchoked into silence by icy distinctiondeath rattles…
I can see your daughter walking down streets of lovein revelation;but raising her up to be a correct little sisteris doing your mama’s job all over again.And who did you make on the edge of Harlem’s winterhard and blackwhile the…
There are so many roots to the tree of angerthat sometimes the branches shatterbefore they bear. Sitting in Nedicksthe women rally before they marchdiscussing the problematic girlsthey hire to make them free.An almost white counterman passesa waiting brother to serve…
IThis land will not always be foreign.How many of its women ache to bear their stories robust and screaming like the earth erupting grain or thrash in padded chains mute as bottles hands fluttering traces of resistanceon the backs of…
I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neckmoving away from mebeyond anger or failureyour face in the evening schools of longingthrough mornings of wish and ripenwe were always saying goodbyein the blood in the bone over…
I walk across noon with you todayknowing you for a mistake in my bloodcalling you with yesterday’s voiceand you are wise to forget the rulesof yesterday’s game. But creepers tickleour elbows as we circle the parkand tomorrowthe little red gourds…
Passing men in the street who are deadbecomes a common occurrencebut loving one of themis no solution.I believe in love as I believe in our childrenbut I was born Black and without illusionsand my visionwhich differs from yoursis clearalthough sometimes…
No one is left here to eat by my fire.My children have gone to the woodwith their earth coloured laughterstitched up in a market blanketI wore to announce my coming of age and that daythe other girls went pale and…