Monday, July 18, 2011

Woman To The Night By Lepadah

Perfection told
illumination dead
breaking into a night embrace holding a sin
tales of one dark side
hidden within
public tattling
extract chronicles
fixing fiction to matter of fact
blur a blue blur
disclose the glutted moon
over head of men sitting on the community bench
gossipy lips somebody's business
aware Sheila's reception
a black woman in apartment B
minding her own
tending her own matters
ceremonial cleaning the gifted home
lights peering out into the lone eyes of neighboring windows
one can hear music playing
a smooth thump a thump a thump a thump . . .
feel of an Island carnival call to labor day
motioning one to a mango beat
seeking a view of her space
through thinly shirred curtains
swinging loom a body dancing alone
with a paint roller, a white turban around the head
framing her tiny dark face
pacing giggle to hips
up and down the wobbly ladder
running along the radiator
tight foot turn Cab Calloway
casting image larger than she
stalking the new fervor of this woman's happiness
cleaning, placing crystals in spiritual places
drums, wooden statues and precious materials
bought and given
laughing to familiar songs that seem to shake the thickness of a woman evolved
dismounting like a ballerina with weightiness
soon motions impeded
dimming light to dark respect for the thunder
slowly outing Marley
to hear the God's play the earth in the rain

© 2011 Lepadah

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