Wednesday, April 30, 2008


He opened my legs and read my mind,
writing machinations that fanned my
obsessive streak;
I the moth, he the flame.
Then I saw them together.

I said to him:
"Your letters are fat leeches,
sidestepping my brain and boring
holes in my mind. You are a lie."
In reply, he leaned forward,
shook his locks and roared.
Then: "You silly, sexy siren.
I'll call you Bertha."

This evening smells of smoke.
My bedrails are burning,
my white sheets are hot.
Grace, come. I'm afraid of my God.
He calls me a foreign name that tastes bad
and smells like a worm infested brain.
Come maid. Hold me tight and call me Toni.


Sucharita Sarkar said...

Really good poem. I especially loved that fat leeches metaphor, very vivid and unusual.

You are really interested in unhappy-yet-can't-live-without human relationships, aren't you? Life's like that, to put it tritely.

KerrBerr said...

Danny that's quite intense yow.It's very symbolic and vivid...i like the taste of it.Bwoy Bertha, you a gwane good!!!lol
Continue to do ur thing baby gurl.

Paul Bernard said...

Wow - great poem Jaquanda. It was quite trippy, like poetry by Jim Morrison.

I feel like I get an insight into you when I read your posts, but I can't quite fathom you.

But that's good.

Anonymous said...

yeah girl, you've done it again. i can visualize it but the picture is not quite clear in my mind. Quite mysterious, telling me something but not too much. I like it!

Jan Jan