untitled/incomplete {napowrimo '11, #20}

i was fine until
you cried.

trees
don't fall down
in a mere breeze.

sap-tears run down my arms,
too sticky for kleenex.

i'll have to bathe
in the river
to wash away your sorrow.

womanlove
doesn't repair
roots
bark
branches...

artistry {napowrimo '11, #19}

for mama beah

limitless black beauty
so often shoved into
a pigeon's place
left to rot
under false representations
and sexless muumuus.

but we know better.

we understand
the luminosity
and depth
of brown.

we know the origins
of our ochre, cream and saffron highlights
and can trace the lineage
of the untamed strut
carried by heads held high.

and we know you.

we know
your envy
can maim
but it cannot kill.

pet {napowrimo '11, #18}

my only "child"
is a fussy black tomcat
full of
various and sundry meows
and hug-like head butts.

ecosystem {napowrimo '11, #17}

if, as he said,
women are like ecosystems,
i'd be tropical:
a volcanic island,
black sand greeting cerulean sea;
green trees bearing greener coconuts
populated with beautiful people
and brilliantly colored birds.

everything about me
would inspire life, love
and gratitude to spirits and ancestors
for having the good graces
to be incarnated here.

hospital waiting room {napowrimo '11, #16}

bodies succumb while
the spirit remains high: a
prescription for joy.

costume change {napowrimo '11, #15}

home means
wrapping myself in a sarong;
moonstone beads hanging
between warm breasts.

in a name {napowrimo '11, #14}

a gray fortress
by the sea
with a garden of hollies
and a garden by the pool.

merciful waters
wind their way home.

born in honor
full of prayer
and grace.

untitled {napowrimo '11, #13}

help me
wail
cry
gnash my teeth

let it out

i gotta tell somebody.

i don't give a damn about my throat
i'd rather lose my mind.

can't
breathe
help
i

i am
sliding down a wall
no one made

the floor
is far away
like you

by some twist of fate
(possibly several)
you're not mine...

centuries old conversations
assault my ears

before i know it
i'm thrashing around to shake them off...

and all you've done
is say hello
and ask how i'm doing.

blah {napowrimo '11, #12}

fatigue and grumbling
tummies make for listless poems.
tomorrow, hope floats.

sex {napowrimo '11, #11}

auburn topped
blackberry triangle
framing fluttery petals

tasty, textured wonder

love incarnate.