'not sure'

charlotte

under the bluewhite sky of this dream
i am knee-deep in water, a river whose water is nearly still, and warm as my skin
bent over, hands in the the murk, searching for weeds to eat
hungry in a hungry world
and so tired
when the canoe with the baby in it goes by
all heads turn to watch it pass
wet, muddy hands clap
i lay my head back between my shoulders and laugh soap-bubbles up into the air
wavering rainbows of sound-made-color
that lay ripples on the world in shimmering rings
like prayers made visible
they radiate across the sky and the people and the baby and the brown water
they speed the canoe along-
the world will live

Brown, Wellfleet

blood in the carpet
glass on the floor
outside, the parking-lot lights
howl yellow like dinosaurs, calling.
there is the rotary wink of cops' cars as well,
on the walls, red, and then cold blue.

and then the room is clean
no trace remains of struggle
can you almost hear the last cry?
the room wails with it,
like those tears that are so fierce that no sound emerges.
no one believes this story -
no one would.
what happened here is
invisible.

Wellfleet, MLK Weekend