Monday, March 16, 2009

Watching Stacey Waite Open For Dr. Bernice Reagon

behind me was a murder of cackling elders.
during the entire evening, they crackled their candy wrappers;
tittered; giggled; sucked their teeth and said "Oh, no!"

(especially when Jan was reading.)
they harumphed, groaned "uh, uh, uh"
and muttered about poems in which no cock protruded.

when you took the stage, I heard them shifting;
settling; roosting. You spoke.
and they didn't.

I saw a bridge building itself
that, in death, not even Sakia Gunn could erect.
under the eyes of frozen painted muses

these women recalled
passing; chewed on choices;
and were finally brought

to peace.

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