Читать книгу Wicked Enchantment - Wanda Coleman - Страница 23

1

white birds do not eat them	(to get out
they taste bitter	or dry up
	here in this
drops from the air. blood	slag grey limbo)

wings for casting spells

crisp thin splashes of color

ground up fine: juju

a lover will speak true

or

cocoons in his food

spirit of blood rush enters

there will be many babies

fat and cocoa happy

wings spread

against glass. wings. to be free

wings on night

wings against my face. my skin screams

white birds do not eat them

2

phobia

butterflies in the jar

the child imprisons them. watches

delights. colors. “they eat lettuce,” another

child smiles, “put holes in the lid so they can breathe”

in morning’s dew a burial

she puts the tiny winged things amid green leaves

3

moths/souls of the unhappy dead

(the dog chases them across the field

stunned by the mad beating of black wings, retreats)

4

inside my stomach flutter winged dreams

no future. baby ails. husband, eyes glazed high nods out

children in heat/puberty/poverty. they want

the walls stink. mildew. smudged dark dirty mirrors

bruised flesh. she bleeds. dissatisfied

vein/mouth opened up and spurting

5

in the dark room

i listen to him undress

pants drop to the floor

he pulls back the sheets his

cool touch my warm ready

his hands to my waist

inside i flower. he finds me. alights

his proboscis uncoils

deep into me

sucks up

6

against my face the flutter

what’s wrong

there’s something in here. flying around

it’s nothing

i hear it

go back to sleep

i’m afraid

keep still

i felt it come at me

a dream

no. something real

7

(who comes to the sleeper in midnight city skin)

cocaine lumin white it flits thru night

feathered antennae

cool air. caress the light/my body calls

pain on return

the steel cocoon

carries me down slick streets

on my way to the end of the line

the door open

my red skin

great great grandmama walks the trail of tears

the white powder

carries me down silk sheets

on my way to the end of the line

my nose open

tonight i dance dance of dead

my ancestors enter

my body spins/shock

transmuted

my brown skin

great granddad makes the oklahoma land rush

slave of city

i bow before the ashes

the cold black tar my skin sticks

each move agony

i can’t get out of it

fuck me. make it hurt

8

lost

heart valves the blood flow slows

eyes haunted eyes see beyond the veil

outside the window. let me in. i’m cold

my fists sore my blood cakes

the skin becomes translucent, glows

the heart brittle delicate easily shatters

desperate

it beats against the window. can’t let it in

it eats and leaves no bone

no history/memory of having been

*

white birds do not eat them

9

in my soul winged beings flutter

dead/transformed

my mouth open. moths take flight