Ntozake Shange

‘Sorry’

one thing i don’t needis any more apologiesi got sorry greetin me at my front dooryou can keep yrsi don’t know what to do wit emthey dont open doorsor bring the sun backthey dont make me happyor get a mornin paperdidnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash carscuz a sorryi am simply tiredof collectini…

(French sugar-beet farmers, overwhelmed by mulatto competitors, plastered Europe’s cities with advertisements proclaiming: ‘Our sugar is not soiled with black blood.’ A popular Afro-Cuban saying is: ‘Sugar is made with blood,’ while in the South of the United States, cane growers processed natural sugar ‘to get the nigger out.’)

melt to melodies round small firesmount tree limbswith bodies blackand swayin’ black n croonin’songs of sunsetscomin’ from the fields bawdybrazenhard to put yr finger onlike the blueslike the strum of guitars on dark dampsouthern nightshard to put your finger onlike screams in the black bloody southern soilsweet black blood echoin’ thru the evenin’ servicegrindin’ by…

at 4:30 AM

movin the arms & legs that trapped hershe sighed affirmin the sculptured man& made herself a bathof dark musk oil egyptian crystals& florida water to remove his smellto wash away the glitterto watch the butterflies melt intosuds & the rhinestones fall beneathher buttocks like smooth pebblesin a missouri creeklayin in watershe became herselfordinarybrown braided womanwith…