And then one morning we woke up
embracing on the bare floor of a large cage.
To keep you happy, I decorated the bars.
Because you had never been hungry, I knew
I could tell you the black side
of my family owned slaves.
I realize this is perhaps
the one reason why I love you,
because I told you this
and you – still – wanted to kiss
me. We laughed when I said plantation,
fell into our chairs when I said cane.
There were fingers on the floor
and the split bodies of women
who’d been torn apart by horses
during the Inquisition.
You’d said, Well I’ll be damned!
Every now and then you’d change
from a prancing black buck
into a small high yellow girl: pigtailed,
patent leather, eyes spinning gossamer, begging
for an egg salad and banana pudding.
Or just as quickly you’d become
the girl’s mother, pulling
yourself away from yourself.
Because my whole head was covered
with a heaving beehive, you thought
I didn’t notice. I noticed. I cried honey.
And then you were fourteen, and you had grown
a glorious steel cock under your skirt. To brag
you rubbed yourself against me. Then your tongue
was inside my mouth, and I wanted to say
Please ask me first, but it was your
tongue, so who cared suddenly
about your poor manners?
We had books and a waterfall
was falling in the corner.
I didn’t tell you I couldn’t
remember what that thing was
you said to me once, that tender thing
you’d said I should never forget.
The moment you said it, I forgot it.
I wondered if you thought we were lost.
We weren’t lost. We were loss.
And meanwhile, all I could think about
were the innumerable ways I would’ve loved
to have eaten you, how being
devoured can make one cry, and I hoped
you liked the fresh, pleasant taste
of juice cane. You pulled
my pubic bone toward you. I didn’t
say, It’s still broken; I didn’t tell
you, There’s still this crack. It was sore,
but I stayed silent because you were smiling.
You said, The bars look pretty, Baby,
then rubbed your hind legs up against me.
This is an incredible piece I wish I’d come across sooner. I’d love to try and talk about the beehive section (Because my whole head was covered / with a heaving beehive, you thought / I didn’t notice. I noticed. I cried honey.), but will obviously have to research the poem and subject more before I can even think about doing so.