“you might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is knocking.” — Lucille Clifton

The hand’s sensitive intelligence…
a found erotic reference
dangerous as a nation divided;
beggars and thieves and other.

Whispering cacophonous choruses
our fears spill into codes.
A new kind of Reconstruction
stumbling into mosaic beauty.

He said, the issue is not opportunity,
while we stay flat footed—even in heels.
Summer jackets hide shame.
In that way, life is easy.

What is beneath the surface begs.
It howls.
Remaining grounded has a sinister side,
a backlash by way of prophetic referent.