Wanda Coleman

the thief has made me a gift of his night’s booty somewhere, a daughter discovers her mother’s coral brooch missing, somewhere, a man recoils at the absence of his gambling stash. somewhere, a miser rifles over a vanished ransom in newly minted silver all this to buy a hotbed of memories to feed the children fresh-killed lies to open all the locks on love forever is a moment we hold in our stomachs as he brushes the smudge of his kiss across my lips, i smell the cologne of his fear a robust and smoky aroma mingled with the woody musk of courtrooms and the stench of pain-paved alleyways i take these things and promise to say mum

can kill you can fade your life away friends are all out shopping ain’t nobody home suicide hotline is busy and here i am on my own with a pill and a bottle for company and heart full of been done wrong i’m a candidate for the coroner, a lyric for a song saturday afternoons are killers when the air is brisk and warm ol’ sun he steady whispers soon the life you know will be done suicide line i can’t get you best friend out of town alone with a pill and a bottle i drink my troubles down the man i love is a killer the man i love is  thief the man i love is a junky the man i love is grief some call saturday the sabbath it’s the bottom of the line some say whether last or first, my heart’s gonna burst and there ain’t no help my way here with a pill and a bottle and a life full of been done wrong i’m a candidate for the coroner, a lyric for a song

the winged thang built her dream palace amid the fine green eyes of a sheltering bough she did not know it was urban turf disguised as serenely delusionally rural nor did she know the neighborhood was rife with slant-mawed felines and those long-taloned swoopers of prey. she was ignorant of the acidity & oil that slowly polluted the earth, and was never to detect the serpent coiled one strong limb below following her nature she flitted and dove for whatever blades twigs and mud could be found under the humming blue and created a hatchery for her spawn not knowing all were doomed

and then there are the one-hit zombies cursed to an eternity of Monday nights who runs our music does not make it controls manufacture and marketing of rhythm schemes on and fixes the charts. it’s polyphonic from the dark of the chitlin to solid gold dawn doublecrossed over a love come down after the plunge sloshing around in limbo that too sweet gospel splash

— for Dennis Brutus This year the leaves turn red green black freedom colors each leaf each stitch of grass. I am amazed at my sweet harvest. The prison door has opened and a nation’s heart is released. I am full having spent my greediness in a ritual of joy.

the gates of mercy slammed on the right foot. they would not permit return and bent a wing. there was no choice but to learn to boogaloo. those horrid days were not without their pleasure, learning to swear and wearing mock leather so tight eyes bulged, a stolen puff or two behind crack-broken backs and tickled palms in hallways dark, flirtations during choir practice as the body organized itself against the will (a mystic gone ballistic, not home but blood on the range) as one descended on this effed-up breeding hole of greeds—to suffer chronic seeings was’t hunger or holiness spurred the sighting?

1 i want to have your child cuz upon losing you i’ll have more than memory more than ache more than greatness i’ll have laughter i do not mean to be fatalistic know the limits put on you black man me, black woman when you are killed or imprisoned desert or separate from me i’ll continue fill the void of your absence with love between me and ours gods 2 you love me in your eyes. don’t say it loud pain america will never let you 3 you’re home. it’s a surprise you’ve made it thru another day one more night in your arms to fuck merge our bodies merge give wealth/freedom congress cannot legislate away 4 eyes wide as suns inquire where’s daddy? he’s gone away i love my daddy i smile he’s a good man eyes wide as suns burn my hand with a kiss go outside to play in the streets god what god is about