por Maya Angelou
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the end of a
One innocent spring
your voice meant to me
less than tires turning
Welcoming Bluebeards to our darkening closets,
Stranglers to our outstretched necks,
The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
You drink a bitter draught.
I sip the tears your eyes fight to hold
A cup of lees, of henbane steeped in chaff.
Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips
Where bones idle under years of fatback
They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...