Friday, January 29, 2010

Outside Thunder, Inside Rain (a poem)

Outside Thunder, Inside Rain
By Nordette N. Adams

I keep thinking --
if I am to be who I am meant to be,
must I truss up my spirit,
make it smooth in a settled way,
fasten its flavors so when grazers taste
me I burst a rainbow on the tongue?

I watch other women of color be smooth,
black with kink to the hair
long, twisted, and dreading exposure,
called to give speeches,
poems, sing songs with warrior words
mixed with the Trail of Tears
or the names of Middle Passage,
telling how old blues came from one place low,
deep in the throat or up in the nose
or out from toes after kissing loins
and these women seem trussed up
for a table, decorated for
presentational feasts.

If I am to be like these colored goddesses,
plucked of wings, laid out for consumption,
paper ruffles where once were feet,
find me a quiet room, find me
a calming brew to silence my mind,
make my heart open
but close my windows
to the howlings of this world
so I may only dream danger,
stab monsters in nightmares,
but wake to cushions
of money in the bank.

Until then
my spirit is loose,
my feathers ruffle
at lustful tongues.

© 2009 Nordette N. Adams


ByJane said...

In-fuckin'-credible. I hope you allow swearing in your comments, because that was precisely what I said when I finished reading this poem.

le0pard13 said...

I always love you poetry, Nordette. Keep them comin'! Thanks.

Vérité Parlant is Nordette Adams said...

Thank you, Ms. ByJane. :-) And you to Le0.