Wednesday, February 10, 2010

a kentucky haint thinks of haiti

im not a witch
nor the son of one
but i want to be

so instead, i write
to shore up the lack,
every written word

thrown head first
into the ohio river
more than once

to sink or to float
whichever fits
the thick lipped

for this self-anointed
poet building towers



audre lorde is my lady of the lake
ghost hands parting this southern mouth
housing a kentucky pond/each word a frond
every stem a magic wand/the tongue a baton
wagging in yemoja's general direction,
all of her reflection upon this body of water


anyway, the coffee kept on ancestral altars
has crumbled into dirt; prayers dehydrate
into dust fertilizing the eggs of this diaspora

i can await the answers to prayer, im patient
and i meditate. besides, all of my ancestors are
out on loan... tho shorn from kentucky i am kin
to haiti. my not-so-distant cousins needing more
angels than i because love is an immediate action


and speaking of punching pat robertson
in the mouth, he and rush limbaugh can call
my ancestors retarded or niggers and me
a retarded nigger for crafting faith from where
the hate of blacks was created. pyre respects
pyre and i am sunflower-supreme. i do not
shrink shrieking into shadows reeking with
shame or fear or of the fear-of-flame... there
is switchblade in my sepals. and just ike all
of my gods, i too speak from my mouth. dont
require prophet-mongers to translate what god's
written on my cheek, so let's not escalate this
renunciation to your ignorance. push me too
hard and i shall no longer pray for you

not that
for you
is ever
a first

every amen
must begin and
end somewhere

and the brackets of this body and
soul do not embrace everybody.


but if i was a witch
or the son of one,
how wonderful...

from such
a blessing
would come the
of beauty and
the undertaking
to use it.

(god damn the prevention
of this american polyglot
spoiling a black man's
asymmetrical patois)

No comments:

Post a Comment