he waits until his feet
hit his dirt floor before
he thanks the Great One
for allowing the sun
to rise again    

he walks through
well worn weeds to make
water, and again gives thanks
he could pass the water, and saw
no serpent in the grass  

this is a blessed day
for he has yams and fruit
left in his hut; he finds little
mold on these gifts from the
ground, the trees    

he looks to the sky
for omens--it is mauve
with morning, but the clouds
have no foreboding shapes
again, he gives thanks  

before and after his repast,
there are the prayers, then the silence
in which he has learned he will hear the voice
which commands all, its words in cadence
with the slow beating in his chest

those folks hired white help,
maybe a Mex to tend to the yards
but they let old lady Latty wash
their soiled sheets, bath towels
and undergarments

they sent out their fine clothes
for that new process called dry cleaning,
a magic Latty would never fathom--how
you gonna clean anything without water
steaming, lye and labor of love

but Latty knew those folks
whose ****-stained drawers
she was scrubbing had more secrets
than money, and she knew to keep
lips God gave her closed

for nobody need know about
the joy juice that was on the sheets
when the man of the house was
gone, and the towels covered
with the seed part of that

weren't none of Latty's business
what sins were seeping under the
cracks of those fine wood doors, or
what other rich as Croesus gents were
walking softly on the polished floors

Latty was off Mondays, but
not on the Sabbath, for it was
often the eve of that holy day
when the most soiling was done
and that didn't bother her none

for Sundays the folks was mostly
gone to church, and whatever sinning
was to be had took its rest like the Lord did,
unless sitting in a pew with a man
you never loved counts as such

Tulsa, 1908

she wonders why
she goes for the type of guy
who is too far from her
too far out of her reach
she: actually loves the thrill

she thinks that
it's just bad luck that all the guys
she likes rarely reply
take way too long
she: loves the suspense

she waits patiently
for the day that some guy, anyone
will want her as much
as she wants them
she: scares them

she's passionate
she dives in deep
and she needs someone
a thrill-seeker just like her

I'll be an unstoppable force when I'll immortalise your name on a piece of paper that nobody can destroy. The entire world will know about you. Even when you'll no longer be mine. They will know just how radiant your smile is, how beautiful and full of depth your eyes are, how heart wrenching it was for me to see you cry and how much we loved each other as we planned to pen down the saga of our times.
Just remember, no matter what, no matter where, you'll always and forever hold the pen through which I'll bleed, till the ink runs dry.

called, "when I am dead"

and what came to mind, while
pecking away

were thatched roof cottages, hedgerows
all along a cliff,

and waves below whipping against
earth's spine

farther out were great swells
and black ships foundering

sea serpents were darting through
the green depths

this spectacle was silent, the screaming
men, the crashing waves

even the charcoal sky, threaded with a
thousand bolts of lightning

birthed no thunder, though I didn't
wonder why

I was supposed to among the dead
where vibrations abound

though none pound against
eardrums

such silence, I was told, was tantamount
to solace

but men were drowning, and fires leapt
across the waters

and no passage led up the cliffs to home
and sanctuary from this terrific tempest

walking away
isnt always giving up
sometimes
its realizing
that theres nothing left
to stay and fight for

you called me beautiful
but once you grew to know me
you were quick to tell me
that i was not

and that says more
about you
than it does
about my beauty

its funny
how we take refuge at night
stuck between
lingering and lurking
when everything and nothing
is wrong and right
all at once

thoughts deep enough
to drown us
drip dry overhead
staining our bodies black
as the sky outside our lazily cracked windows

every sound is amplified
limited eyesight
heightening our sense of hearing
encouraging us to remain
quiet
dark
calm
but never asleep

she who wanted to be
more
than a pretty face
and soft skin

/

nothing more
than a fading
daydream-
sick