Blessed

I am silly

and sullen with everything

From Tuesday til the Lord’s day,

when I fake it;

Quit for feeling grateful.

Count blessings

hatched

matted,

covered in gunk

          12.29.14

reBound

I do not welcome
your tiptoe into curious territories.

This is about release
and recovery

solely a thing
of reparation;

making amends for giving
up

immunity
from sly and charming impurities,

prerogative
to be preserved and set apart.

                                    12.16.14

Quench

 Baby pours a double

His fingers are slim, and

Slick from a clumsy spill.

He’s a heavy hand.

My top lip tingles before I’m half in.

He casts a smile

Over the wooden divide

I am whet; procured.

Sentenced.                       

09.08.14

bent

i desired you so

deeply

i could feel my insides

tremble, bumping into themselves

and fueling the rhythm

that kept us on beat

ive seen you dance since me

watching your feet

stumble in  your too-big shoes

the heat between us

melted the mattress so

on the springs, that now poke and dig

 i cannot sleep without thinking of you inching over in the dark.

                                                           

i call to God

to bless and forgive, then

to you to comfort me in case he wont.

waiting for a call back,

i sit hunched -

my spine forever arched to be your little spoon.

24 June ‘14

(n+1)

In your empty space

I consider            how I fit;

which way I must maneuver my arms

in order to squeeze in

because I can feel it won’t be right

when there’s two of us.

June '14

Love and Slugs

Heavy dreams hang

with swollen bellies

All over my furrowed brow

The humble moon is no match

They empty their guts

just as I’ve quit butterfly kissing the pillowcase

dumping on me

all the things I fear.

        2014

From Here (years later)

I had the greenest grass the girls at school had ever seen. My parents

saw fit to keep things manicured. I rested, unconcerned with stains or bug bites, for

what could have been hours or days. All the same for pretty me. Cherished me. Nurtured me. Things 

happened and I, laying in the grass, did not blink or wince. I, fingering the blades

and blowing kisses to hippos in the sky, did not know or flinch. Except to bat at a hairstreak’s kiss.

I had the softest grass a girl could hope to lay in. But somewhere, life had happened and someone 

cried. 



Feb '14

In Dreams

This is my interpretation of a Bop poem. The style was created by Afaa Michael Weaver during a Cave Canem summer retreat. This Bop’s refrain comes from James Blake’s song “Our Love Comes Back” The accompanying music is composed by Jean-Michel Bernard from my favorite movie of all time, The Science of Sleep. Hope you enjoy.

The Legend of Black Ice

Ice is all there was for miles
In every direction
Far enough, though, through squinted eyes,

one could see a tower there
A small city out that way
tufts of smoke hanging over

Buildings and things

Maybe sending signals
Or just doing what they do

Day by day, unaware of her.

Men would come - on journeys
Unworthy - unknowingly unworthy - stay a day

then go, leaving their heavy behind

with her

Black ice, they began to call her
for the elusiveness

the uncertainty and the way

her eyes could chill,
Evaporate salty sweat beads
And pull a frosty puff of
sour breath from their shivering lips

cut their feet out from beneath them, so quickly

And all they could do to keep

from hitting the ground was reach out eager arms,

sink a cool head into her bosom.

  

                              14 Jan '14