Monday, December 2, 2019

Brown Sugar

If you leave the window open
You can hear the sound
Of the clouds turning

We’re going to get rain
A little bit late in the day tomorrow
After the heat’s done with us

I put a pot on the stove
Turned on the radio
Felt like hearing somebody talk

Out a few miles back
There are men in the fields
Waiting for all of us to go to sleep

We assigned posts
I got the late shift
Because I don’t take to sleeping

Back when I lived out west
There were night raids
And you’d wake up to find yourself
Holding your own scalp

They’d come to my door
And I’d have blood spread out
All over the knobs
And staring ‘em right in the face

Take a lesson from the Bible

Nobody enters a house
That’s been blessed
By blood

Pretty soon
Every door had been
Knocked down
But mine
And that’s when I
Hopped a train
And made my way here

Only to find
That your fields
Have just as many
Men in them
As the ones
Back home

I’ve done two things
So far in my life--

Hiding
And running

Eventually
Like a child ages
You get to a point
Where the only thing left to do
Is stick

And me?

I’m going to stick
Like brown sugar

They’re going to get
Their fingers
Wet with me

I put on my good nightgown
And my work boots
And my Mama’s hat
And I’m going to stay up late

Waiting for the whistle
That says--

Time to go, boys
They’re asleep

Men know how to go
Hand-to-hand
But nobody traps
Like a woman
And that’s where
We’ll meet ‘em

At the traps
We set

I hope when they smell
The rain
They mistake it
For a good omen
And not for what it is

A coming of tears
A prediction of blue blood
The bluest
The kind that wipes itself out
As it makes its way
To the water

The bigger streams
The larger lakes
The widest ocean

Come an hour from now
I’ll have the radio off
And the window shut
And the door
Clean as can be

No blood on it
And a pretty little
Welcoming mat
Placed right down
In the front of it

That’s how I’ll let them know
I’m nice and weak

That’s how I’ll make them
Feel like
It’s safe

To come in

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