Face to face

The mirror does not lie
does not reveal
my story

The lie does not reveal
does not mirror
my story

My story
does not mirror
does not reveal the lie

My story
does not reveal
does not lie in the mirror

A history

In honor of Black History Month


The twisted branches of my
family tree she
told me on her knee

The twisted tales of my
Uncle and Auntie
Lee she helped me see

The twisted kin from my
past in Tennessee
They follow me, forever free

He got it all

Johnny prayed every night.
He prayed that dad would
fall down drunk and that
mom would get some sleep.
He prayed that bruises would
heal and that the war within
his home would end.

Johnny's dad prayed too.
He prayed that god would
damn him and give him some
peace and quiet for once.
He prayed that his wife would
stop nagging and grow some brains.
She left him the next morning.

Safekeeping

She stored her secrets
in a locket that she wore
around her neck for all to see,
but never to touch

The Rub

Like a handful of sawdust
abrasive words are
shaved, scattered, and finally lost

Sometimes

"we are each the love of someone's life"

Sometimes he smiled
shyly sneaking glances
from across the classroom

Sometimes he slipped
his hand into hers as they
walked through the hallways

Sometimes he dreamed
of waiting for her at the
end of a church aisle

Sometimes he laid
his head on her lap and wished
she didn't have to go

The Washboard

Her knuckles were raw.
She'd been stooping over the
basin scrubbing his clothes
for hours.

Her mind was numb,
lost in the abrasive thump thump
thump of blood-soaked cotton on
the washboard.

With a handful of soap and
a tub full of suds, she scrubbed
her soul and washed away
the loss.

TAINTED

His excuse was plausible enough.
That old, rusted Buick had stalled
on the interstate until a Good Samaritan
had stopped and helped him out. 

His kiss was soft enough.
The sweet smell of whiskey hadn't
tainted his tongue and seeped into
his sweat-soaked work shirt.

Her heart was open enough.
She willingly fell into his arms and
into bed, but wondered if that Good Samaritan
had been wearing lipstick.

Moving Forward

I care nothing for innovation.
A smile to
a stranger, that's real progress.

UNCONQUERED

She never seemed to be without a man, feasting on the collars
and earlobes of the well-dressed and wealthy who tried to conquer her.

She wrapped them around her finger, a fresh mani festively playing
across their chests, exploring new territory and terrors every moment as

She sailed forward, a breezy sashay and certainty that only the fearless
-- only those who embrace Manifest Destiny -- can understand.

She wrote her manifesto in pink pen, a black book thick with names
and numbers, mapping her life and leaving no trace of love.