“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, it is easy
what is beneath the surface begs
it howls
remaining grounded has a sinister side
backlash by way of prophetic referent
