Slave Play
I am searching for freedomwithin this bondage. Liken it to the holyspirit that caught my mother
one Sunday. As she bent to buckleI fled the body that asked my ownto speak so freely and foreign.
Such would be my safe wordwere I as daring. My body can break openat will, it’s the mind that cannot—
insert cuffs and I’ll think shackle,say whip and I’ll picture a treecarved into flesh. So why am I
on my knees again with handsfor a stepping stool and a mouth’sforum of folly
for a chalice? This is my body,eat ye all of it. A black mantells me to call him
a nigger. A white man wantsto collar train me. (See how I am boththe dog and bone?) Dom
I shall not want,lead me beside the stillkudzu, entangle me within the loss
of…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2019