Jukebox: A Blues for Langston

If I could tame the

whistling wind

and create for you a sweet jazz tune,

I would chain that chill

as my servant to you.

Take the fiery auburn autumn leaves sprinkling

onto rural streets and

gather a bushel for youthful play.

Take the plum skies

accented with fireflies; I'll

wrap its warmth and dew around you.

Take your sweetest daydream;

I'll make your day's dreams come true.

Take the sunshine for your souvenir,

While the moon's envy sings

the Blues.

And as we

Listen to it play,

I'd melt into you 'til day.

Become one with you, my smooth brown Harlem boy.

i’m looking for a way to tell god i exist

that my forehead missed their kiss

the inebriation i get

the sky has begun it’s crumbling

layers of clouds float over

my black body

soft as handpicked cotton

who knew unnatural disasters could feel this good?

i’m looking for a way to know god better

i almost found it

hidden in the hook of my smile at dawn

in autumn

in november

when leaves fade from green to rust

sacrilege once dwelled there –

in the slight dimple in my cheek

yet I cracked back my grin

thundered laughter

boasted beautiful Blackness

life into the hereafter

i found them.

nobody’ll dare say to me

“silly black girl, you ain’t free.”