Rainy Saturday
We met for fish & grits
one rainy Saturday in Brooklyn
I ate with my hands
tea warmed my stomach
the butterflies escaped
you innocence warmed my heart
raindrops played our tune
we did a duet in conversation
outside–
cloudy, crazy, wet
yet
through my eyes
sunshine smiled in Bed-Stuy
as we walked together
with full stomachs
& future curiosity on
Fulton Street
I can’t wait for the grass to thirst
and my stomach to growl again
For she-poet
She says
she doesn’t write love poems
just poems about the struggle
they contain words
that need to be said
neo-revolutionaries don’t have time for hearts
there’s too much hurt in the world
hinting at hypocrisy is time consuming enough
but she needs to know that
Coretta had a heart
and Betty had a heart
and Evers had a heart
that the movement could not caress