Finding The Strength To Heal ~ Our Wave
Zora’s Warning
by Sarah Martin
“De nigger woman is de mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see.” - Zora Neale Hurston
Tonight as you undress
me, I am shaped by shadows.
The dark moon is the areola of my breast; a deep blue
curve under my eyes, my iris,
a flaming eclipse. Tonight, as you undress me,
my hips hang with the weight
of memories, of mammies
drained of sweet red milk. Tonight,
my legs part to welcome
you. The light out
of my mouth, a stifled song
on my lips. Tonight,
you ride me home.
Naming
by Sarah Martin
When you reached down my shirt,
cupping the bounty of my breasts,
the white lily inside me died.
I rose, black and prickly.
What did you want with me anyway?
I was 22, you 62: A match made in hell.
You motioned me over to play
racketball in the heat of the pandemic.
It was a warm summer day, yet I saw spring
blossom in the black of your eyes.
You whispered honey into my ears:
how you could open portals,
show me the world of art you collected,
teach me to see life through your seasoned eyes.
We sat looking at each other
from the ends of my long wooden kitchen table.
Our words, a chasm like the space
between us. Our visions, a gulf.
Still, I dream about the time you wrapped me
into yourself, and I crawled out weeping.
