Saturday, October 10, 2009
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Wife
Maafa Cycle
Wife
He came last night.
To our bed, to our home
After the wedding and the whippin’. . .
And took me.
He took me back from you.
“Don’t think he own you now girl.”
And, just like that I was no longer wife.
No longer purchased – not bought
- But stolen
- Not body stolen, but soul.
“Think you can put some white flowers in your hair, put on some white rags and you married, huh?”
Soul robbed,
In the sweat, and the musk of a man not mine.
Our love was surmounted.
White man on black bed,
Black love defiled - and my man lying weak from beating.
“Watch this here boy! You see this cow you jumped broom wit?”
Watchin’, while . . .
White sweat. Dripping on black soil.
Seeding where my
man has yet to be
fruitful.
My eyes reach out to my man.
MOVE.
Where is the strength that works all day in the high cotton?! Where is that Bull worth the trade of three milk cows?
MOVE.
No lash should take the strength that willed forth our love.
-Writhe free of the pain!
Move.
Instead, I am stolen. First his body whipped and then his soul lynched.
- his blood and the lashes, that will scar, heal, seal in the memory of this wife, re-stolen.
My body is payment
for the audacity of his black manhood.
A slap on a weak thigh.
“Bitch wore me out.”
This body, birthplace. Origin.
White seed on black soil-
White seed will sprout – will sprout, will
Sprout and mock him, mock me, but avenge.
This hybrid,
nurtured and reared by unwilling, love defiled, overworthy mother in a sea of pissed on love.
Pissed on love.
And this, defiler – corrupted the sanctity of us.
You watch him, eyes too weary to bring tears. You watch him writhing pleased above us both.
Both lashed and leashed—
- My virtue lost.
- Our love ruptured – as your back,
As my womb,
forever the lamb upon which wolves feed.
I curse the absence of manhood.
You curse the presence of my womb.
It will never bring forth the product of our love.
Wombs soaked in shame cannot birth pride.
All Rights Reserved (c) 2009
Wife
He came last night.
To our bed, to our home
After the wedding and the whippin’. . .
And took me.
He took me back from you.
“Don’t think he own you now girl.”
And, just like that I was no longer wife.
No longer purchased – not bought
- But stolen
- Not body stolen, but soul.
“Think you can put some white flowers in your hair, put on some white rags and you married, huh?”
Soul robbed,
In the sweat, and the musk of a man not mine.
Our love was surmounted.
White man on black bed,
Black love defiled - and my man lying weak from beating.
“Watch this here boy! You see this cow you jumped broom wit?”
Watchin’, while . . .
White sweat. Dripping on black soil.
Seeding where my
man has yet to be
fruitful.
My eyes reach out to my man.
MOVE.
Where is the strength that works all day in the high cotton?! Where is that Bull worth the trade of three milk cows?
MOVE.
No lash should take the strength that willed forth our love.
-Writhe free of the pain!
Move.
Instead, I am stolen. First his body whipped and then his soul lynched.
- his blood and the lashes, that will scar, heal, seal in the memory of this wife, re-stolen.
My body is payment
for the audacity of his black manhood.
A slap on a weak thigh.
“Bitch wore me out.”
This body, birthplace. Origin.
White seed on black soil-
White seed will sprout – will sprout, will
Sprout and mock him, mock me, but avenge.
This hybrid,
nurtured and reared by unwilling, love defiled, overworthy mother in a sea of pissed on love.
Pissed on love.
And this, defiler – corrupted the sanctity of us.
You watch him, eyes too weary to bring tears. You watch him writhing pleased above us both.
Both lashed and leashed—
- My virtue lost.
- Our love ruptured – as your back,
As my womb,
forever the lamb upon which wolves feed.
I curse the absence of manhood.
You curse the presence of my womb.
It will never bring forth the product of our love.
Wombs soaked in shame cannot birth pride.
All Rights Reserved (c) 2009
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