keep this in the place
you have for keeping
keep it all ways
we have never hated black
we have been ashamed
hopeless tired mad
we loved us
we have always loved each other
children all ways
pass it on
curling them around
i hold their bodies in obscene embrace
thinking of everything but kinship.
collards and kale
strain against each strange other
away from my kissmaking hand and
the iron bedpot.
the pot is black.
the cutting board is black,
and just for a minute
the greens roll black under the knife,
and the kitchen twists dark on its spine
and i taste in my natural appetite
the bond of live things everywhere.
Lucille Clifton (27 juni 1936 – 13 februari 2010)