Mama, no more water whitlow, you do not scrub
Anymore, denim in zinc tub
Papa, paucity an’ bad choices are your end;
for years you hit hard rock with sledge-hammer

When flint stone split open eyeball
I bet you curse God in native tongue
You slipped out
‘fore Jesus an’ I
start healing them sick folks

Mama, no more, no more boiled banana water
You are two women
When bare feet …
cause big mouths to scorn the black boy,
big mouths like Limbaugh an’ Oriley,
you prophesied

When them nefarious streets looked at me,
like pupils fixed on them Arabs,
you barrowed broad shoulders
like a man,
but you are two women

Root fed branches
an’ leaves trapped sun light,
an’ create
so that root an’ limbs host
olive-throated parakeets,
noisy little broods

When the smell of mangoes went
I lost pursuit of purpose,
but now, there’s a morning fire
Mama, no more clothes to scrub,
just a sponge-bath in zinc tub,
in perfumed-scented oil