Poem Series: The Trouble with Sisterhood

Where I’m Going

I know exactly which way

to get to King Street and I

don’t need a man telling me.

Which way to 1633 King Street?

-Keep pointing somewhere you want

me to go. But I didn’t ask you, did I?

I asked your wife.

Excuse me Mam…

-Am I drunk? Should it matter…

That I know if you know what I am

Didn’t think so

that’s why I’m asking her.

-My attitude, my business. Don’t be rude,

my name is Eva and I’m nineteen.

What more do you need to know?

 

Just like a man, he’s always pressing

against the small of my back.

Are you The Potter now? Do I look like clay?

I don’t need your gentle pushes.

Like a stranger who thinks

he’s found our piece of ass, I mean art

for him to weld the best scraps

and make his perfect woman.

I’m no one’s project.

Keep your gold star

old dirty bastard.

 

-So I’m fast? Fast like Allyson Felix

or fast like the way you came

Looking me up and down,

pretending to care?

Your wife is here man. She’s not your honey

and I’m not your sweetheart

or whatever other confections you wanna

throw into the pot

Mr. Chef Boyardee.

-Now he’s tryna tell you not

to talk to me, your sister?

 

Just like a guy to crown himself

and change your title, what you can keep.

Mrs. Cleo please

don’t walk away.

-I told you my name is Arsinoe,

I mean Eva…nineteen.

I’m lost and I’m drunk, too

young to be out here in these streets

left alone, but you already knew that.

You’re all ready to leave me

here with these dogs.

-I said you’re a dog!

Can you shut him up please

and tell me

exactly which way to Queen’s Street?

 

How to Raise Dragons

A father with two young girls.

A single father with two young girls.

Where has his dragon gone?

The beauty who watched over all

his treasures?

So many said tame her,

They said tame her glorious being.

Wrap gold around her neck

and help her to suffer

for all her riches.

When she accumulated

so much

sickness from this world

needles wrenched under her amour

and found their place,

sending her to the next.

All for fame the father cries out,

Now the lonely father cries out and prays,

“Oh Mother, what can I say?”

How can a man raise dragons?

And her eyes answered,

piercing from their gold frame on

the stone mantle and said,

“Tell them to trade fire…

When precious things captivate

their swelling breasts,

trade fire and nest together.”

 

We Live in the Mirror

A reflection

with dust covering over the surface

and sticky yellow residue.

A mixture of rust and condensation.

Menstrual blood watered with condemnation.

 

Clear it with alcohol,

and love every one that passes through.

Fix that mirror

with the coarsest grit.

 

No matter how intricate,

exotic and fashionable,

that frame could be switched.

The mirror can be held by another.

 

The dark masculine backing

that allows you just to see yourself

gets stripped away.

Rub across the surface once more

See right through a window

at our sisters walking by.

See yourself in them.

A binding of love and contemplation,

Drawn from man with our own creations.