by Pat Parker
to see if the sun is shining –
I turn to you – instead.
I Have
i have known
many women
& the you of you
puzzles me.
it is not beauty
i have known
beautiful women.
it is not brains
i have known
intelligent women.
it its not goodness
i have known
good women.
it is not selflessness
i have known
giving women.
Yet, you touch me
in new,
different
ways
i become sand
on a beach
washed anew with
each wave of you.
with each touch of you
i am fresh bread
warm and rising
i become a new-born kitten
ready to be licked
& nuzzled into life.
You are my last love
And my first love
You make me a virgin –
& I want to give myself to you
On Jealousy
it’s insane
& childish
you say
your feelings –
make you embarrassed
my body responds to you –
glows with your touch
feels mellow –
safe & protected.
childish,
insane, you say –
no say i –
i worry about
people who don’t
care for
or value
their
possessions
As you entered
my life –
it was so easy
to accept –
for years
i have
visualized
you & me
on beaches
in stores
at movies
in bed
Fantasy is the food
of poets
what blew my mind –
is when i pinched
myself to wake up –
& YOU
were still
here.
Metamorphosis
you take these fingers
bid them soft –
a velvet touch
to your loins
you take these arms
bid them pliant
a warm cocoon
to shield you
you take this shell
bid it full
a sensual cup
to lay with you
you take this voice
bid it sing
an uncaged bird
to warble your praise
you take me, love
a sea skeleton
fill me with you
& i become
pregnant with love
give birth
to revolution
Para Maria Sandra
Pain, like fertilizer
can be used for growth
can be worked
deep inside –
nurtured
turned to blossoms.
I have felt you
pequena gigante
as I move
across the land
of your past
Seen the strength
of your reds & browns
– the subtle power.
To ease your pain
to soothe your anger
i would become
the grandmother
would stroke your hair
and lie
es nada, niña
es nada.
I would become
the unknown father
would take you
in my arms
& speak to you
of my pride
sing praise of
our blood.
I would become
the brother
locked in silence –
trapped in manhood
would speak
forever of love
be gentle & touch
To ease your pain
i would become
a chameleon
change to your needs
i would become
tu familia
te amo
pequena gigante
te amo.
gente
It’s difficult to explain
a good feeling –
my world has become colorful –
a rainbow of hues
now – a part of my living
and it feels good.
it feels good
to listen to people
talk about the streets
& know
it’s not a vicarious experience.
it feels good
to sit and be loose
to talk, without worry,
about the racist in the room.
it feels good
to hear
‘we’re gonna have a party’
& know it’s really
going to be party.
it feels good
to be able to say
my sisters
and not have
any reservations.
But best of all –
it feels good
to sit in a room
and say
‘Have you ever felt like…?’
and somebody has.
Group
“The primary lesson learned by any
minority is self-hatred.”
I do not know
when my lessons began
I have no memory –
of a teacher,
or books.
osmosis – perhaps
the lessons slip
into my brain
my cells – silently
I do have memory of
childhood chants
if you’re white – alright
if you’re brown – stick around
if you’re Black – get back
I do have memory of teachers
“you are heathens
why can’t you be
like the white kids
you are bad – ”
Bad
& I never thought
to ask the Black teachers
in the all-Black schools
how did they know
how white kids were?
Bad
I do have memory
of playground shouts
“your lips are too big”
a memory of my sisters
putting on lipstick
on half of their lips
to make them look smaller
Bad
“your hair nappy”
I do have memory
of “Beauty” parlours
& hot combs and grease
Bad
“stay out of the sun
it’ll make you darker”
I do have memory
of Black & White
bleaching cream
Nadinola
Bleach & Glow
Bad
“your nose is too big”
I do have memory
of mothers pinching
their babies’ noses
to make them smaller
Bad
BAD
I do not know
when my lessons
began
do not know
when my lessons
were learned,
absorbed into my cells
now
there are new lessons
new teachers
each week I go to my group
see women
Black women
Beautiful Black Women
& I am in love
with each of them
& this is important
in the loving
in the act of loving
each woman
I have learned a new lesson
I have learned
to love myself
The Law
In my youth
i was taught
the law is good –
my parents,
my teachers,
all
told of policemen
to help me find my way –
of courts, to punish
those who would harm me
i was taught
“respect the law”
Now, in my third decade
I have seen the law
the law
comes to homes
& takes the poor
for traffic tickets
the law
takes people to jail
for stealing food
the law
comes in mini-skirts
to see if your home
is bare enough
for welfare
the law
sits in robes
in courtrooms
& takes away
your children
the law
arrests the prostitute
but not her customer
the law
sends a rich woman
to jail on weekends
for murder
sends a porno bookseller
to jail for 30 years
the law
tries women who kill
rapists &
frees the rapist
because rape
is a “normal”
reaction
And my mind reels
contradictions
contra/
dictions
& the voices from
my youth declare
the law is good
the law is fair
the law is just
& then I realize
good, fair, just,
are all 4 letter words
& to use 4 letter words
is against the law
Womanslaughter
It doesn’t hurt as much now –
the thought of you dead
doesn’t rip at my innards,
leaves no holes to suck rage.
Now, thoughts of the four
daughters of Buster Cooks,
children, survivors
of Texas Hell, survivors
of soul-searing poverty,
survivors of small town
mentality, survivors
now three
doesn’t hurt as much.
I.
An Act
I used to be fearful
of phone calls in the night –
never in the day.
Death, like the vampire,
fears the sun
never in the day –
“Hello, Patty.”
“Hey, big sister
what’s happening?
How’s the kids?”
“Patty, Jonesy shot Shirley,
She didn’t make it.”
Hello, Hello Death
Don’t you know it’s daytime?
The sun is much too bright today
Hello, Hello Death
you made a mistake
came here too soon, again.
Five months, Death
My sisters and I just met
in celebration of you –
We came, the four strong
daughters of Buster Cooks,
and buried him –
We came, the four strong
daughters of Buster Cooks,
and took care of his widow.
We came, the four strong
daughters of Buster Cooks
and shook hands with his friends.
We came, the four strong
daughters of Buster Cooks,
and the right flowers.
We came, the four strong
daughters of Buster Cooks,
walked tall & celebrated you.
We came, his four strong daughters,
and notified insurance companies
arranged social security payments
gathered the sum of his life.
“We must be strong for mother.”
She was the third daughter of Buster Cooks.
I am the fourth.
And in his death we met.
The four years that separated us – gone.
And we talked.
She would divorce the quiet man.
Go back to school – begin again.
Together we would be strong
& take care of Buster’s widow.
The poet returned to the family.
The fourth daughter came home.
Hello, Hello Death
What’s this you say to me?
Now there are three.
We came, the three sisters
of Shirley Jones
& took care of her mother.
We picked the right flowers,
contacted insurance companies,
arranged social security payments,
and cremated her.
We came, the three sisters
of Shirley Jones.
We were not strong.
“It is good, they said,
that Buster is dead.
He would surely kill
the quiet man.”
II.
Justice
There was a quiet man
He married a quiet wife
Together, they lived
a quiet life.
Not so, not so
her sisters said,
the truth comes out
as she lies dead.
He beat her.
He accused her
of awful things
& he beat her.
One day she left.
“Hell, Hello Police
I am a woman
& I am afraid
My husband means to kill me.”
She went to her sister’s house
she, too, was a woman alone.
The quiet man came & beat her.
Both women were afraid.
“Hello, Hello Police
I am a woman
& I am afraid.
My husband means to kill me.”
The four strong daughters
of Buster Cooks
came to bury him –
the third one carried a gun.
“Why do you have a gun?”
“For protection – just in case.”
“Can you shoot it?”
“Yes, I have learned well.”
“Hello, Hello Police
I am a woman alone
& I am afraid.
My husband means to kill me.”
“Lady, there’s nothing we can do
until he tries to hurt you.
Go to the judge & he will decree
that your husband leaves you be.”
She found an apartment
with a friend.
She would begin
a new life again.
Interlocutory Divorce Decree in hand;
The end of the quiet man.
He came to her home
& he beat her.
Both women were afraid.
“Hello, Hello Police
I am a woman alone
& I am afraid.
My ex-husband means to kill me.”
“Fear not, lady,
he will be sought.”
It was too late
when he was caught.
One day a quiet man
shot his quiet wife
three times in the back.
He shot her friend as well.
His wife died.
The three sisters
of Shirley Jones
came to cremate her.
They were not strong.
III.
Somebody’s Trial
“It is good, they said,
that Buster is dead.
He would surely kill
the quiet man.”
I was not at the trial.
I was not needed to testify.
She slept with other men, he said.
No, said her friends.
No, said her sisters.
That is a lie.
She was Black.
You are white.
Why were you there?
We were friends, she said.
I was helping her move
the furniture; the divorce court
had given it to her
Were you alone? they asked.
No two men came with us.
They were gone with a load.
She slept with women, he said.
No, said her sisters.
No, said her friends.
We were only friends.
That is a lie.
You lived with this woman?
Yes, said her friend.
You slept in the same bed?
Yes, said her friend.
Were you lovers?
No, said her friend.
But you slept in the same bed?
Yes, said her friend.
What shall be done with this man?
Is it a murder of the first degree?
No, said the men,
It is a crime of passion.
He was angry.
Is it a murder of the second degree?
Yes, said the men,
but we will not call it that.
We must think of his record.
We will call it manslaughter.
The sentence is the same.
What will we do with this man?
His boss, a white man came.
This is a quiet Black man, he said.
He works well for me
The men sent the quiet
Black man to jail.
He went to work in the day.
He went to jail & slept at night.
In one year, he went home.
IV.
Woman-slaughter
“It is good, they said,
that Buster is dead.
He would surely kill
