She, The Creator

After Vermeer’s pendants, The Astronomer & The Geographer


Come! Now! To the window of the world and see

the things I have under my hands. Careful! For I hold

continents in my palms and stir whirlpools with my thumbs.


Can you see it? The leviathan arching across my heartline,

the straits of my past lives crafting a waterway from where

I have come to where I am still to venture. Watch as I spin


this world from the silver in my hair, as I create mountains in the sky

with the crescent of my nails. I wear that blue gown like a crown

for the whole of my body. Watch! When I step into the light,


see how the Heavens dance for the movement of my hips. Listen!

How the soil hums beneath my planted feet. How the stars sing

for the glory of my skin, ornamented by the rings and moons of every


Cosmic body.






a Black woman at a concert wears a Led Zeppelin shirt


I swear

if the King Himself were to shuffle the earth’s

magnetic field like dominos on a table like St. Louis

blues in the jowls of a white man to ride the dip

of your waist so that this sweat-flavored

room and the world outside it all revolved

along the reeling rocking axis of your hips

there would still be a man eyeing your shirt

asking you between sets to name five songs by Led Zeppelin

            but not Good Times Bad Times or

                                                  Achilles Last Stand and definitely not

                                                                                                    Stairway to Heaven…


and if the Godmother of Rock n Roll Herself were to lift

your head and kiss the underside of your chin

with a single finger     her touch divine like sin and

like God in The Creation of Man    the imprint

of your history might be read from your skin and then

the rest could know we’ve been here since the beginning

plaiting these licks these into our hair like okra seeds

licks that taste of Delta mud and bite like Chicago blues

keep following

and those licks’ll take you back to a place

remembered by foot stomps     illegal drumbeats     hollers and echoes


I swear

if the Grandfather Himself squeezed the cosmos into His mighty hand

like a fat April-ripe lemon into a glass of front porch ice water the juice

that flows would be the same electrifying damp that curls

your roots and speckles your forehead as this man asks

            so then, you’ve heard of John Bonham?


he can’t hear it but you do

that Howlin Wolf

calling out to ancient rivers

calling back to bloody fields

a transmission across time

to you


sister

here in this sweat-flavored

room through a cover of

a cover of a cover


I swear sister

we’ve been here

since the beginning