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NOVEMBER IN HALIFAX, 1976
7 nights in garages and parking lots
linger over my right shoulder
I don’t want to see them
see me
see the four of us and the Siamese
in the ‘71 blanket-lined Volvo
bracing against the winds
our life savings measured in tanks of gas
me or Amina awake
always watching
listening for the boys’ breathing
hoping for morning
jarred by knuckles
against the foggy pane
our mouths held shut by our trembling fingers
touching in prayer.
I recognize charcoal-faced Tony
a crack man
he lies wrapped to his neck
on the floor of an old warehouse near the baseball stadium
the crack of the ball against the bat wakes him
his parched lips work
to drive the dry taste of the afternoon away
it is not summer yet and he only bathes in summer
when the nearby hydrants are cracked
and the water cools him like remembered seduction
he lies thinking he has another month of living
in his rancid skin.
When the tarot card turns
or my palm is opened for reading
I wonder do those cutting days show
I never ask
can you see me turning in the city
21 and dizzy
grieving for work
and sunlight
and two rescuing, employed husbands
a call
some word?
can you see me
passing through revolving doors
my face covered with an icy sheen
three ringers pressed to my lips
trying to keep myself in?
And I see Tony’s neighbor, also named Tony
he is not a crack man
he wears a watch
showers at his sister Irene’s place
or heats a pot of water over a barrel
and sponges delicately
he washes his clothes at the laundromat
folds and refolds his seven t-shirts
he likes “I Survived Mount St. Helens” the best
sometimes he holds a warm fragrant shirt
to his face and inhales.
Those shadowing days are pungent
they give me an eye for tight spaces
and who can live in them
they ferry the heavy odor of my dry
and vulnerable skin
and the delicate sense of what in me is clean.
How can I let them go?
M.A. Love ©2001
SMALL CHANGE--YET NOT DESPAIRING
(FOR HARRY T. AND HARRIETTE V. MOORE)
for many voices and drums
1-20-01
voice 1:
small
so small
is that all?
small change
[repeat, alternating with small...not at all...small...real change]
voice 2:
climbing climbing higher climbing
climbing higher mountains climbing
[repeat, as if Sisyphus]
voice 3:
What can I do? What will I do? Tell me.
[repeat, whispering, with the hope the heart will answer]
voice 4:
Beloved
grieving and aggrieved
we who have lost
the child of our dreaming
for whom we have lived
could live
for whom we would die
have died
the child we named
my own
sweet freedom
my own
voice heard
my own
choice cast
my own
precious faith
Beloved
we know this loss
we have held the murdered child
in our arms before
so many times before
we have buried her
and found ourselves desolate
for a while
empty-eyed and stumbling
for a while
jolted and wailing
for a while
molten and still
for a while
confused by those who went on
living
innocently
living
arrogantly
living
as if nothing monumental
had been undone
living
as if they
were not childless, too
Beloved...
voice 5:
here
we breathe history
we bathe in it
plant in its soil
here
we are radioactive
we hold the clumps of our hair
the pieces of our minds
and stare
not believing
in
consequence
Ah, Beloved...
voice 6:
here
it is a
dusky field in summer
made splendid by the brief light
of countless fireflies.
voice 7:
she says, clutching her id
“i live each day in a constant
state of anxiety
wondering if today
will be a day
i pass for an
american. i am
an american”
voice 8:
you must remember
it was just
1-2-3- years ago
the troops leaving so
mr. rutherford could have his day
it was thick then too
the trade off
between black lives
and what they call it?
...healing the nation?
voice 9:
he says “no.
it didn’t come
like a freight train
barreling into my heart. i didn’t wake
up one morning
wanting to make a big noise
make somebody
hear
what we been saying.
it came all small.
i just needed to stand
for what was held out
to everyone.”
voice 10:
you must remember
it was just
50 years ago
during the reign of terror
rosa and johnny moore’s boy harry
and miss harriette
partners in progress
believing they might change florida
and shift everything
a bomb beneath their bed
on christmas day
their silver anniversary
10:20 p.m.
you must remember
see them
holding one another
tenderly
knowing
they are targets
voice 11:
you must remember
it was just
75 days ago
it was just a month ago
it was just a week ago
it was just
yesterday
remember?
voice 12:
Beloved
aggrieved and grieving
we who have cradled
the child of our dreaming
carefully
in our small arms
we who have held her promise
held her tenderly
knowing
Remember
we found ourselves
vulnerable
believing
yet nearly free.
M.A. Love ©2001