you think
i don’t know
what Lucretia doin
to us
with her grinnin eyes
lyin through her gap tooth sighs
got you wanderin round
with a flashlight at daybreak
neighbors whisperin
she got roots on you
sayin she ridin your soul outta control
with those wide hips

you think
i don’t know
this marriage fell victim to homicide
under our bed
there are three packed suitcases
an envelope with nine hundred dollars
a one way train ticket to the crossroads
and a brown paper bag concealin a fifth of gin
you ain’t nothin but a man on the verge of sin

you think
i don’t know
where this is headed
ain’t nothin left to take back
ain’t nothin left to pack
i ain’t got no more tricks up my sleeve
or beneath my skirt
so i reckon you’ll be wantin your last supper
shrimp creole with a tablespoon of menstrual flow
pastor fae say one swallow of red rain will put a lover’s charm to shame
by mornin you’ll see Lucretia in my eyes and realize
i’m the only woman


Mawiyah Bomani

Used with permission of the poet.

This poem was catalogued in Poems and written by Mawiyah Bonmani. Bookmark the permalink.

About Mawiyah Bonmani

Mawiyah Kai EL-Jamah Bomani is a native New Orleanian Writer and Spirit Woman. of In the Fall of 2008 Mawiyah received an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the University of New Orleans. Mawiyah has her bachelors in Print-Journalism from Southern University at New Orleans and a teaching certificate in Special Education from the University of New Orleans. Mawiyah currently lives, writes, and conducts Orisa rituals and merindinlogun readings in Shreveport, Louisiana.

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