from our protective embrace. For we know,
that no one can love our babies as
unconditionally as we do. We
fear that even at school – the one place that
should be a second home – our kids will be
neglected. Abused, devalued, dismissed.
We expect our precious children to
learn the ABC’s and 123’s. To
use “arboreous” in a sentence and
quote extensively from The Bill of Rights.
We want this – all of this – even if we
know that our children speak too loudly.
Repeat themselves until acknowledged. Write
letters backwards while looking directly
at them. We want more for our children.
Though they pronounce the silent “k” in "knife"
or learn better by tapping or standing.
Unable to sit quietly with feet
on the floor and eyes facing straight-ahead.
We want ... No, we demand nothing less than
the very best from our children’s schools.
Second to parents and sometimes in place
of us, children seek the love and safety
believed to be the foundation of schools.
Willingly, children hug teachers. Laugh at
jokes they do not grasp. Ignore remarks that
weaken the spirit and rob the soul. Yes,
there is something perversely unjust about sending
children into the world. Compromising
their humanity and their dignity.
Freshmen Year
Richard – the College Student
descendant of an African tribe
whose name i cannot pronounce
and whose culture i am unfamiliar
black but not as the night
more akin to a tinge
of creamy caramel latte
american through and through
breathing life into every patriotic syllable
of francis scott key’s battle hymn
yet i am seen as something
so very foreign to me
labeled the degenerate, the robber, the nigger
standing on the outside of your judgment
scholastic prowess ignored
potential and worth underestimated
accordingly, you do not understand why
a grade of “b” is not good enough for me
whom you regard as the dark one
for your sake, one day you may see,
that the black man – even in diversity –
is merely a man and as worthy as any man
Soul Food
My mother wore patches of white flour
as badges of honor.
From her ruby cheeks
to her sweat-stained blouse,
the light dusting promised
a feast
of fried chicken, collard greens,
and pecan pie.
A simple dinner in our home
served with fanfare of the heart.
Lapping the juices
from my shiny fingers,
I saw love mirrored in Mama's eyes –
chestnut orbs that hid
the pain encased in her heart.
Always sitting the table for three.
Hoping that might be the night
dad returned
to us …
to her.
Before Dawn
Slumber dissipates as dawn approaches.
Quiet sails along the cool breeze
Pouring from the window ajar.
Dew dampens the room
You lie content and unaffected.
Tangled locks – dark and soft –
Repose upon the pillow.
I kiss your tiny forehead
And pray to the remaining stars above.
My inadequacies aside,
Let me be a decent mother
To my only son. My only priority.
The heart captures this moment.
Keeping worry at bay. My love,
Enjoy your dreams before daybreak
Wrangles your bliss and it is time
For us to brave the world.
The Annabel Lee Conspiracy
Who knew Poe's beautiful Annabel Lee?
Through and through, the ideal mortal lover.
Unfortunately, she died by the sea.
Body gone from this world, her soul hovered.
Distraught and wounded, part of Poe died, too.
He lived for the love of that girl -- so fair.
Shattered by her death, Poe knew what to do.
By god, he'd drag those angels by their hair!
But, did the winged seraphs kill Annabel
Or did she fall prey to Poe's psychosis?
Whether by pen or strife, it was Poe's hell
That took Annabel's life without notice.
Ah, Poor Mr. Poe. An ill-fated chap
With the grave stain of guilt upon his lap.
Football Sundays
Rise before the pelican to give God his due.
In the heart of the Crescent City beyond the bayou,
We peel off club rags and reach for church attire.
Praise the Lord and watch the Saints baptize foes in pigskin fire.
From heaven, “Who Dat!” alights the sky in a black and gold hue.
Pregnant with Pride
pregnant with pride
you shrink
from responsibility
of your reckless and callous
words
Latrine Epiphany
Regurgitation spews forth.
A wasted life
Expelled.
Clearing the path
For unfettered renewal.
The Plea
You say you’ll give me the world.
Really? The world? Can you do that?
Start smaller. May be a wide-brim hat
For a beach side walk to watch the water pool and swirl.
I want much but need very little:
Your kiss, your touch, your attention, your love.
Yes, it’s that simple! As simple as a hug.
Love can be complex but it’s no riddle.
Shall we start with truth? With the real?
Save the, “Roses are red / Violets are blue.”
I’d rather get to know you.
Be brave. Show me how you feel.
Fragrances, flowers, and fanfare are nice
But honesty, sincerity, and subtlety are better.