- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Streets of Gold
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They asked for their ancestors after dark
With photographs, flowers, and red bean rice.
Petit gens were suckled by their mothers
Near the fire who came to hear Leah,
Mambo Voudouisant from Port au Prince,
Whose third eye makes dolls in Little Haiti.
She will summon with them all saints tonight,
African, Creole, and European,
For unemployed men in the neighborhood
Where junk cars cost little more than Simone
Who was baptized the same on the boat lift
But calls herself My Sin point of purchase.
- COMMENTS
vrosej10over 14 years agoEvocative. I love the gothic imagery and I am always a sucker for a good voodoo theme. I love it.
normal jeanover 14 years agoCouldn't find a flaw...you have a lovely gift and I feel privileged to be witness to your words.
~ julie
lorencinoover 14 years agoYou have effectively captured what I imagine is the tragic confusion of democracy denied amidst abject poverty, the search for meaning and comfort in ancient beliefs that reach back to African origins syncretized with Papal superstitions in a history of violent exploitation that culminates in a woman today selling herself because she prefers life to death.
