Standing Naked (Ode to Lucille Clifton)

I stand
butt naked
in my house
(for my house
is the earth)

Tits raised
to the ceiling
(sky)

Aware that
they can see -

that they
pull their

eyes out (both in
awe of and in shock
at)

The site of a
brown woman
that is

un-ash
           amedly
her. self.

Three apexes
(one inverted -that
one at its own
APEX)

will turn them on
their head.

Turn them mad.

Tis 'bout time
 the tables turned.

The (Re)Birth of Desire

I remember 

a time

where 

touching 

them (men)

held all

its allure

in it being 

a forbidden

fruit

when it 

was the role

of all the 

women (in

me and 

before me)

to be seen

as coy, shy,

innocent.

I was not al-

lowed to feel

the vivacious

raw of my un-

becoming

lest it 

threaten

their ‘sanc-

tity’

Fuck 

(later I

will fuck)

    their

sanctity.

The only

sanctity

they hold

is the 

remnance 

of what 

they took

from me 

(all the 

me's)

when they

pillaged the

belly of the

holy 

mother.

Not

knowing 

that her 

Godliness

 is the tinder

that trans-

forms me

into a 

phoenix

that will

no longer

wait for

the feast

to be laid

out (and 

her name

called)

but will

just 

eat.

Lover

Lover,
   through the
melancholy in
my eyes you
would think it
possible for me
   to forget

The sensation
  of your tongue
on the hair
at the juncture
of my arm (pit)

Or the feel of
  your alive
fingers taut
around my waist

Moving me,
moulding me,
 with
  sudden urgency
to accommodate
the song you sing.

No! The language
  you speak.

The
language I first
  thought
you spoke with
your tongue.

Then listened
closer and learnt
  that you spoke it
with your
   being.

You, lover -
   intuit, inscribe,
   know -
the ancient truths
of (my) body like
a pilgrim
     returning home.

Say, lover.
Are you not
 a lover, but
   a witch
                instead?

 

The babies that bleed from me

Little formed
limbs and hearts
the size of
jelly beans

begin to beat
inside my body,
longing to come
into existence

into a life, they
know was made
specially for them.

But.

I stop them in
their tracks.

I say:
This is not
a life that
you deserve.

One of hearts
split into a
thousand pieces
a million times
over. Inevitably.

The breaking in
of your skull
regularly because
the world tells
you that you can
not - ever - be
enough.

The hollowness
in you brain
awarded to you
by the lottery
of chemistry.

A life of
accidents
    and
chance.

No.

You don't
deserve this.

You deserve
so much more:

Eternity.

Sunshine

I lie bare
on my back
buttocks
kissing the
sand in
two separate
and sensual
places

My knees
spread open
just wide
enough to
let

the glory
of my
vulva

shine out
into
the world:
that shuns
it,
forbids it
de
    nies
its
   existence.

It glows,
gloriously,
as its
    fo-
        lds

yield to
the invisible
warmth and
caress of the
sun.

It comes
   alive
and all
of existence
  comes
to attention
at its
   center.

This
   is
where life
has always
    begun
and where
   pleasure
is eternal

like the
 dying of
the day

sun to
the
   holiest
of
   holies

is only a
promise of
 a new
  beginning.

Little Mirror II

It is not that if we are willing to give love unconditionally 

that we will be met with reciprocation 

by those whom we want to give unconditionally to.

It is that if we give unconditionally,

those who see themselves as worthy of their own grace

will open up to the gift of accepting the joy we want to give.

Projections

Your deep 

lush eyes 

stare 

right 

through me.

The distance 

between us 

grows ever 

                     larger 

with my 

yearning.

The perfect 

sym - metry 

of 

your 

face 

reflects 

      the 

imperfections

          of my 

soul.

Save me. 

     Nourish me. 

         Nurture me.

Allow me

    this small 

victory 

    so that 

I may be 

at peace

  with myself.