Sonia Sanchez
brothers,
this big woman
carries much sweetness
in the folds of her flesh.
her hair
is white with wonderful.
she is
rounder than the moon
and far more faithful.
brothers,
who will hold her,
who will find her beautiful
if you do not?
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boys
but thiswhat you pawni will redeemwhat you steali will concealmy private silence toyour public guiltis all i gotgirlsfirst time a white manopens his flylike a good thingwe’ll just laughlaugh real loud myblack womenchildrenwhen they ask youwhy is your mama so funnysayshe is a poetshe don’t have no sense
i am accused of tending to the past
as if i sculpted itwith my own hands. i did not.this past was waiting for mewhen i came,a monstrous unnamed baby,and i with my mother’s itchtook it to breastand named itHistory.she is more human now,learning languages everyday,remembering faces, names and dates.when she is strong enough to travelon her own, beware, she will.
You uterus
as a sockwhile i have slippered into youmy dead and living childrennowthey want to cut you outstocking i will not needwhere i am goingwhere am i goingold girlwithout youuterusmy bloody printmy estrogen kitchenmy black bag of desirewhere can i gobarefootwithout youwhere can you gowithout me
it lay in my palm soft and trembled
authority and how it always insistedon itself, how it was masterof the man, how it measured him, neverwas ignored or denied, and how it promisedthere would be sweetness if it was obeyedjust like the saints do, like the angelsand i opened the window and held out myuncupped hand; i swear to godi thought it could…
won’t you celebrate with me
a kind of life? i had no model.born in babylonboth nonwhite and womanwhat did i see to be except myself?i made it uphere on this bridge betweenstarshine and clay,my one hand holding tightmy one hand; come celebratewith me that everydaysomething has tried to kill meand has failed.
my sister Josephine
and dead these 15 yearswho carried a bookon every stroll.when daddy was dyingshe left the streetsand moved back hometo tend him.her pimp came tooher Diamond Dickand they would take turnsreadinga bible aloud through the house.when you poem thisand you will she would sayremember the Book of Job.happy birthday and hopeto you Josephineone of the eastsmost…