the hoarded currency where my mother dies is of course of course a book.
for Toi Derricotte
There’s a page missing. I ate it.
So even if you believe me you’ll
never know if any page was missing
& that word huh missing
are you just an unmarried woman & around?
Miss—ing or a snake hitting
on a snake? missssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssing? or in the realm
of excuse me? miss, in you had it now the
land do? miss: a gender decided by a pointed
finger a chide from great
aunt as in: lil’ miss & you ain’t
know what it’s like out there & I want to chat back:
I fucked a man as wide as a tree stump Sequoia last night in him car in that alley there baby I
don’t play I was just a real bad time to come up with 300 bucks how can you say
he is a destination? you don’t know how to read.
If the trees are black women, then lynching is the cruelty of a true God. The trees looked upon the white men & women & children & said, You brought my man home wrong. I will. I will kill you for this. & so the world began to melt away, & the white men lost their fortune. Oil unbecame. & the last Black man alive lives. His vineyard is an orchard is always howling. An army of the living God.
They might kill me. They might take my names & eat them whole. They might take my body & for sport, put me up with child. They might take my blood & break the line. They might take my paper & I’d be annoyed & broke. They might push me lightly so I die from a bump on my head at home where I live with no one but myself. They might make me a demon & have me haint the ones I love for generations & curse them. They have. & I still win, baby.