Thursday, January 21, 2010

Poem #18 of 365: The Spiritual

Cracked voice
like fresh cement
dries too soon--
A falsetto for a false Jesus.
The negro spiritual
says God's gonna trouble the water,
but I'm not sure who is God
and if there is one,
then whose God?

Place Moses in a wicker basket
and on the Styx River,
let him float
to Saint Nobody,
find him a mother who cares
like Medusa,
the misunderstood
sistah with dredlocks,
who takes no shit
from white folk,
but will protect that white baby
like he's her own.

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