Miss Mary sits a-rockin On yellah coated Wooden porch swings Sewing time into tapestries Sipping yellah lemonade With a pink straw She hums her life Into psalms
She looks up briefly To see her pretty angel Perfect angel Stroll up yonder walkway Waving triumphant hellos As she makes her way Through the backyard
Miss June and Marguerite Saunter up the front steps Heaving old black woman sighs Singing lawd have mercies And Jeeee-zusss it’s too hot Sililoquies in miss mary’s ear Collapsible church fans Appear from straw weave purses And three matriarchs Sit perched on yellah porches humming psalms into summer/spring fluid air
Hmmm- hmm- hmm- Ah- hmm-hmm-hmm
time walks quietly passed these trees of knowledge conversing on pastors sermons uninterrupted by Ronnie and the fellahs who stand near the old telephone pole conjuring spirits of winos past through thick yellah eyes
they tread softly ‘round miss mary and her group of thickly feathered swans so as not to cause a ruffle in their tail feathers
Cream walks in fine lined suit To miss mary’s porch Starch becomes baked in two Vertebrae Standing them upright All wanting to know Why cream has come To miss mary’s home Perfect angel greets cream with hug and kiss Introducing Chauncey to yellah swings While hums cease And lines crease foreheads of Chocolate foundations
Angel walks away with halo Half-cocked As two out of three mothers see Imperfection For the first time
“That’s the problem with these gurls” Sighs miss june Through pomade thick skies “They eyes see the prize But they backs is weak”
“Too hard to help a black man lost Find his way through evergreen forests And Thunderbird dreams” She says rocking
“Git some college, Gits you a job that pays more than welfare And find you a white boy” Says Marguerite Chiming in Like choir rehearsal At Pastor’s On Thursday evenings
But miss mary stays quiet Never losing stride in her patchwork
Well Miss Mary…” Bellows Ronnie Through Nigger slurs Beating roots in his back “ain’t you gon’ say something?”
“I did… says mary suddenly “I told her to have a good time” she says with a devilish stare removing fire from his “That boy taking her to see Joseph her fiancee… He jus’ the best man, An’ if ya’ll knew anything, Ya’ll would git off my block and Do what she doin’ Maybe then ya’ll wouldn’t have to be messin’ with me No more…
And you two… Who sit there like Lawd hisself made ya’ll saints Where ya’lls kids at? I know where they is… An’ I dare ya’ll to mess up my lemonade Bringin’ all that sour Up on my porch” She sets herself right “shoot… all dis hate goin’ on an’ everybody wondahs why we cain’t be free”
DomePomePoets- We live the word and love the word...as it should be.
"poetry to me is like dreaming- everyones got a different interpretation- and that's a pretty cool thing" -Guerilla Love
"Sister, I love you, and please don't complain about stomach aches after you chose to eat bad apples. I've planted a tree if you can wait for it to bear fruit." -Barefoot Aquarian
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