Hear Say
I heard
the Bronx stopped on a dime when she died.
People arrived like raindrops
and coiled around the block,
and coiled around the block
again.
Everyone would recall
hot cross buns and candles burning in glass jars.
Her rested body was the end of superstition
and the people
cried
and cried.
In defense of Comics (1942)
Red cape
indigo arms
pink sunsets
make chores less work.
Spiderman in the bathroom room,
Superman in church,
Wonder Woman washing in the creek.
The next hero
underneath the kitchen sink, planning her escape.
12 Hour Crush
Little man with green in your eyes I was surprised to see you laugh at my joke.
The twists that adorn your hair
flew around in the air
made me laugh too.
we were almost lovers
for half a day.
Funny man with green
(in your almond eyes)
can’t disguise my gaze
on those days when
your skin grows
deeper
deeper
tan
DaMn
we were almost lovers
for half a day.
wanting a piece what goes on
in those five sizes too big bordered
beneath the small of your back
pants
we were almost lovers
for half a day.
Ivy
I learned A lot
about class
on the first day.
They wore
Jcrew not Jordache
they smoked
coke not crack
girls like me
rolled their eyes
(incidentally, colored skin doesn’t breed camaraderie).
It was a great education.
I heard you made
jokes about Jews
that didn’t surprise me.
You told me to
get on all fours
and clean your
floors in algebra class
All in fun I guess.
Nevertheless,
I hurried up and became a poet
Clean
Dip my tongue in the cool
I do this,
it’s part of the washing game
And you are there
ready with a bowl
persistent and gentle with your touch
you refuse
to give a bad bath.
Night Elms
The winter trees have a secret
they share with fallen snow
beneath my feathered blanket
I peak through a hole
and watch the skinny trunks of elm trees
Grow white enough to overcome the darkness
We glow
they call before I fall asleep.
Your Name On a Grain of Rice
Kissing the pacific ocean
on the pier.
a tourist gets her name
engraved on grain
To wear around her neck
Before that
in a market
women tired from the sun
and other things
loaded pounds of heaviness upon their
heads and carefully carried it
down alleys
Before that
Women brown from the sun
and other things
bent over burdened,
pulled it up from mud
for a meal.
Then,
Sticky, steamy, burnt, and crispy
aromatic, organic, and modified
at a carnival, out of place
and useless
Margaret Remembers
Black box throws
blue light.
Glow flickers
on gray face
The weather girl
gives a prophecy.
Heavy diapers
pull away wet.
Bone fingers
tap a bell.
Margaret remembers
plump lips.
From Heaven
Black holes and galaxies
cover the body
upon his entrance
and constellations of polyester danced
as he began to roll down the isle.
So when he sits next to you
in the last pew, you
better made sure
you smile.
He could be God (even I know that)
He is spiced with sweat.
He is focused on his sermon notes.
Delta’s and Ohms are covered
in smudged fingerprints.
Then he smiles at me.
He knows I understand.
A Screen Door Slam
When was it, when
I called you Mom
and never said
mommy again?
Not when I sat
on stacked pillows
between spidery Legs
waiting for you to complete
your cornrow masterpiece.
Was it when
we skipped over cracks
to save our ancestors’ backs
and fed birds on the beach
our snacks?
No ceremony
To soothe your fears about drowning in cup of water.
Just MOM
before a screen door slam.
A First Master
In the part of my head that stores my first kiss
Where the epiphany of phonics is still fresh
and in the same spot where math festers,
There, above the first link on my spinal chord
lies a life photograph of my first master.
Bound, among the cluttered pebbles.
She awakes and I meet her.
Drowsy, from the epidural and the anesthesia
at the roughness of this new morning.
So easy to embrace, so hard to keep up with.
A familiar smell.
my water balloon head lands in her chest
War for the Holidays
Engraved in gauze
names we don’t know
wrap around gifts.
Veins of ribbon
from earth angels
adorn coffers.
Under conflict’s arms
cedar piles high
we repeat.
Banjo rag
Deer guts
Open belly gourd
Banjar
Africa guitar
No one knows
or even remembers
That you have roots.
Dear guts
Open belly gourd
Banjar
Come so far
Got a new master
Frettin’ on stage
wearin’ a suit
Dear guts
Open belly gourd
Banjar
Wailin’ like you are
On that ship
Leaving promised land
to become a joke.
Deer guts
Open belly gourd
Banjar
Africa guitar
No one knows
or even remembers
that you have any roots.
The Physics of Ice
standing in the hush of winter
pleasantries of snowflakes and sunshine erode.
lungs reject the cold air.
hot breath leads you
toward any signifier of warmth
but ice forms on your path.
With unsure steps there is hope
for a goal of a warm glow.
you embark on a short slick, walk.
Another step — Slip.
Before you understand “frozen solid”
Sip the surprise like you knew it was coming.
In split second levatation remember the thaw.
After landing rise watch the
childrenPlay in the anatomy of the snow
Dream Date With Figureheads
1.
We eat shrimp with Castro
At a café.
His beard bounces on his Gueravera
when he laughs.
We are good socialists
Then he gasses us.
2.
We keep secret
About Cheny’s crush
on the celebrity
Not really a blind date
He blushes when we
Bring her to the house.
Her blonde curls
make him feel shy.
So he sends her away
Like he should.
“A deal’s a deal!” we protest
but he still won’t stop the war.
Sanctuary
The war came bottled in a refugee
to meet me at my desk.
Broken and heavy,
slow to speak.
horror seeped from
the corners of her mouth.
Remembering
an impatient rape slices a breast
she no longer sews.
Remembering
fat yams, daddy’s screams, mama’s farm.
She no longer cooks
The war is tired of herself.
She begs her child for sleep.
The Pugilists.
These gangsters are like
clouds coughing
across skies too big.
They’re aloof in fluff
tossing dark
down sidewalks like dice.
We women folk cry;
sprinting home
to guard our babies
from the landscape storm.
A battle
“Cirrus vs. Cumulus!”
Thunder rattles shelves,
lights blind us.
It ends with a prick.
Pugilists break down
in rivers
dripping into manhood.
