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Mudcloth |
it was you outside of the poetry reading
last wednesday night
you at the doorway
and although i was self conscious and paying attention
when i saw you there
baby tied to your chest
with mudcloth, with care
i opened the door
i let you in
two big headed brown smiling faces
i had been calling you
you had been calling me
feeling call, spirit call
the way old lovers communicate
when phones are complicated, forbidden
i was prouder the other night
of you as i have ever been
cause when all the soft knotted sisters
cooed when you walked in the door so careful
and you eased your lovely package in mudcloth
i remembered when i was with you
remembered how fine it was
when we were at our best
when it was a sunny, dusty l.a.
at the african marketplace
when our bracelets chimed our footsteps
like petals from raining spring trees
we, in joy, in mystery
as we blessed each other
anointed our locks with frankincense
making pungent crosses on our foreheads
before work, after church
baptizing me at the lip of venice
our locks filled with sea foam and jesus
mornings with you were always my favorite
waking me up early, baby
and sweet in the morning
scriptures in the tape deck
instant coffee and heavy cream
clove cigarettes
and mudcloth on the wall
a pleasantly brown bible study, us two
and me, finding jesus
you shaping savior for me
in the palms of your beautiful hands
i broke all the rules
at my afrocentric school
believing in the greatest story every told
i held the secret between my breasts
in my cheeks, the soles of my feet
like light bulbs
like christmas
still do
donny hathaway and oranges
made me cry last night when i thought of you
as i ate the fruit
something about the sweet readiness
to satisfy, to nourish
is so opposite of what we became
and donny knew it
saying goodbye to us
now, when it is hardest
it might be wrong
but when i saw the dimples
on your son's cheeks
i thought of how much you wanted him
how you called him
while making love to me
he had a name before a story
how you frightened me
i was not ready to accept the gift
stripes on my belly
a promise forever
how you frightened me
but when i saw him there
each cheek embracing a kiss
i felt he was a little bit of me
when we tried to work it out
when we came undone
when she loomed like a fertile moon
leaving no time for healing or second questions
saying i miss you
is too small
saying goodbye is impossible
believe me, this life is harder
without your encouragement, baby
harder without sweet wakening
to you whispering prayers over my dreams
life is harder without your affirmation of my body
there was a time you loved my pliant and full brown more than i
i take better care of myself now
sweeter, probably sweeter than you remember
they say mudcloth is used for shrouds
for goodbye
but i say mudcloth is for beginnings
for soft soaking of frankincense
tears and sweet babies
and love, love is the color brown
find our story on a few yards of fabric
in the hood somewhere
notice the soil finger painting
of how we found each other
how we loved
how we forever stained a story
we are still telling
copyright 2004
Imani
Tolliver |
