Hellfire and Fever
Unlike stories
of her acquiescence,
Buddha’s wife
was all hot n bothered
n lookin to party.
I know. I was there.
She stood her ground
and made her rain
w/a ferocity
seen by few
and survived by less.
Day in, day out
that girl made wreck the priories,
Brought hellfire and fever
to government men.
Eyes straight. Head high.
Tits up. Her bangles
all a-jangle.
Her roguery legend ‘round here.
Yaso (as we called her)
made her own revenge.
Taught her gentle charge
that all men are fickle
(most women too)
and that no man is better
than the other.
We all see the dark of day
so make yourself a light
The Raw Edge
w/o giving it all away
this one’s a city narrative
about an apprentice seamstress
who makes the fine stitching
disappear. Cuts the bias
to the gain. Binds the anchor,
cords and feathers.
On the doorstop
of a long time,
she parts headstrong
the eastern winds
knowing each knot
has left her sure
of this: The pattern wherein
the raw edge crosses
the yardage and seam,
giving no inch more
than one deserves.
Stone Poetry Quarterly 