fuchsia, lavender, white, light pink, purple : crape myrtle bouquets burstopen on sturdy branches of skin-smooth bark : my favorite southern trees.one hundred degrees in the shade : we settle into still pools of humidity, moss-dark, beneath live oaks. southern heat makes us grateful for southern trees.the maples in our front yard flew in spring…
wedged in the top branches, rain still sighingto earth as a dissolute sky dissolves,a mozambican woman turns mother,her water breaking loose to pool with the floodlicking the trunk below, a country-sizedpuddle calls forth the child whose name, the mothervowed, would not be drowned, no matter howhigh she had to climb. my mother’s waterwashed her bare…
resistant, cupped, no, cockedin the V of her elbow. i wantmy curves mountainousand locked. i want herarabesque eyes, i want hertar markings, her curlicues,i want her tin skin. sheis a tree, her hair a forestof strength. i want to beadorned with bottles. iwant my brownnessto cover all but the silveredges of my tin skin. mysculptor…
with guitar strings, though it’s true i knew charlie pridebefore charlie parker, but music, music, music, broadwaynumbers (one! . . .) broadcast over speakers in the park,pointer sisters fingering ohio players on the school bus,the elementary chorus performing a patriotic medleyfor the bicentennial, the high school madrigals wringingthe carol of the bells out of our…
butt numb, i shift my weightand shake mosquitos from my ankles,but never take my eyes off the game.yours follow the orange orb, your pupilstwin, brown moons reflecting its light.your play is wild efficiency,you are a four-pronged magic wand,waving, as if agentless, in all directions at once.an opponent dribbles the ball – now he sees it,now…
to create, at last, your encyclopedia africana(encompassing a continent chippedlike wood beneath an axe, a large enoughdiaspora to girdle the globe, and a mere fourthousand years) was either well-deservedsinecure or well-earned trustthat your health was as indestructible asyour will. my mind wrestles with possible pictures:the victorian sensibility, the charcoal woolformality of your coats and vests,…
early enough that the sun barely fills the skywith its weak straw, but row after rowin the auditorium is flush with folks who wantto be home before the football game gets underwayor hate the slower pace the later service takesbut still got to get their god onbefore starting a new week: when she can riseand…
with mug, with yesterday’s mug. self-portraitwith guilt, with fear, with thick-banded silver ring,painted toes, and no make-up on my face. self-portrait with twins, with giggles, with sister atlast, with epistrophy, with crepescule with nellie,with my favorite things. self-portrait with hardhead, with soft light, with raised eyebrow. self-portrait voo-doo, self-portrait hijinks, self-portraitsurprise. self-portrait with patience, with…
take the pen frommy hand. the nightbefore the full moonthe moon seemsfull. what is missingis a dark hungrysickle, the sliverof shadow eatingus up inside. afterthe mountains breathetheir mint-and-sorrowgreen against the longsummer sky, they burstinto hot octoberlaughter, lightingthe horizon with citrus,rust, and blood. youput this knife in myhand. we pull. wemeet as oceans cometogether, heavingagainst and…
month? I still look for you to peek aroundmy door as if you’d discovered a toyyou thought gone for good, ready at my smileto run up and press your fist into mybroken palm. But your own girls have outgrownsuch games, and I cannot pilfer back timeI spent pursuing Freedom. Fair to you,to your brothers, your…
