i am not yours.
i did not make the long hard journey through and across the spirit world
to
be a man’s ocean.
my body is not yours.
my mouth is not yours.
my water is not yours.
nothing i am belongs to you.
unless i decide
to
open my hand
and
give it to you.
–– birthmarks

Nayyirah Waheed

africa does not need your tears.

or

your prayers.

or

your money.

or

your t-shirts.

or

your telethons.

or

your hands ever so lovingly placed

on her buttocks.

your mouth at her breasts.

your fists in her eyes.

she wants you to stop pissing in her face

and

calling it water.

she wants you to leave.

she is the mother.

she does not belong to you.

you do not belong to her.

and

you hate this.

but

one day

you will reap.

what

you have sown.

–– aid

Nayyirah Waheed

BLUE PRELUDE

Last night, the ceiling above me ached
with dance. Music dripped down the walls

like rain in an old house. My eyes followed
the couple’s steps from one corner

to the other, pictured the press of two chests
against soft breathing, bodies slipping

in and out of candlelight. The hurt
was exquisite. In my empty bed, I dreamed

the record’s needle pointed into my back,
spinning me into no one’s song.

Saeed Jones

HE THINKS HE CAN LEAVE ME

by leaving me,

         but even now

I walk

burning

                   through the empty streets

                   of his mind.

Lonely

little town, no sound

                         

                         but my footsteps.

I grin,

mouthful of hell

                  my teeth

                  soot black.

In curlicues of smoke, I sing

his name

                   to the night

and his darkness

mistakes me

                    for sunrise.

Saeed Jones