Goddess X
All My Daydreams Keep Coming Out Bitter and You Know Justice is My New (Black/Love Song)
i wish the imperial wizard wasn’t found
for two weeks
i wish his body bloated
tangled in the reeds
with the small fish
and the crustaceans
nibbling
away at the good meat
i wish the local news showed the carrion
on the bank
like katrina
i wish he didn’t get national coverage
a face
or a name
i wish his family never found out
what happened to him i wish the pigs
didn’t investigate i wish they’d shrug
i wish they’d say that’s what happens
to crackers who can’t keep their mouths shut
in this town i wish cracker had a history
like nigga that way i could hurt them
some nights when i am evil
and hurting and afraid like they
made me i wish he had a black
death
i wish the bitter on my tongue could turn sweet
when i write it down i wish bloated white bodies
on riverbanks could make my ancestors smile
every now and again i wish a thousand white
bodies would float on the banks of stolen rivers
i wish that did not make me so evil
tonight i know
it makes me an evil person i wish /
i had a tongue
or a body
that wasn’t so bitter
and my black looks so
different now beautiful now
don’t all the love songs sound like
rot?
Goddess Gets Mad, Gives God a Death Sentence and Henrietta Still isn’t Free
when does a black body die?
when does its consciousness end?
do cells carry their own
memories
and violence?
my cells carry violence.
does this mean Henrietta Lacks still lives?
does She feel the violence
of 96 years in Her trillions
of pieces left alive?
is She holy spirit?
if we call Her name
will we feel Her
on our tongues
in our blood?
is there a god?
if Henrietta feels all of this
why does he prolong Her suffering?
is he without mercy?
did he forget
about the tortured body
scattered before the world’s eyes?
in the world’s breath?
through the world’s blood?
are there world records in heaven?
is god trying to see
how long She can go
before She breaks?
does god ignore
black pain?
does he mourn it?
does he live
off of it
like offering?
like lamb’s blood?
does he laugh?
does god make a black
body minstrel show in paradise?
is Her resilience an untrained acrobat
on tightrope
with no net below?
how long can a slow
death stay
before it turns to dust?
were black women always
just supposed to turn to dust?
or die slow?
will Henrietta ever know rest?
i know their god
like the black of my blood.
he is made
in their image.
i am armed with
sock and d-battery.
i will swing
and swing
and swing until
he falls. he
will fall.
and Henrietta Lacks
still won’t be free.