He Asks: “How long does one put up with eggshells on the ground?”
Don’t this heartbeat rock strong enough for you to stay sated?
ain’t the trill of my love soft enough for you to lay in it?
Don’t you get sucked long enough to stay in it?
Don’t you bathe in it?
Be honest, negro
you fade in it, you
lose your black in my black, I sweat black gold
you sarcophagus-mold to me and you be unashamed
when I let you call me by name
like a litany.
I stay on that tongue lyrically as a symphony
Who raise up the Ra’ in you?
Who told you you was a Sun, and wrote you like a golden rule
Who sit between your legs
and give you KING space?
Don’t you know…these eggshells are scars?
you are a trigger because you shot me,
and its okay.
We are all armed with something.
But when I hear the pop and pop
reminiscent of a cock or a shot
I will plaster myself against the wall, or on the floor
I will sob uncontrollably until I can remember a better time
How long you put up with that is your fucking choice
but I remember a time when we peeled off our heels
and left copper footprints in our wake.
our walk hurt, and it smelled like God and the Devil was cooking soul food in your mama’s kitchen.
Our walk was too tough to be troubled
by shards of an unborn chicken
You gonna walk hard with me?