Blue Lights In The Basement​

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Blue lights in the basement

Roberta and Donny sing to me

Slowly

Softly getting me closer to you in the dark corner by the

Washer
dryer
and clothesline

 

Secluded moments

whispered words uttered

not to be remembered tomorrow

Neither one of us could translate

Anticipating

From the moment the first slave chain rattled onto the Savannah shoreline

dollars laid hand to hand

As she cried

and pleaded for her children in muffled silence

She was next in line

 

Eventually

It would become my turn to writhe not in unspeakable pain

But to be transfixed with you

In the corner of this basement while

Norman Connors

Takes me away on his spaceship

Tonight

On time arrival

Never late

 

And you try to comprehend the juxtaposition

Between pain and the passion of this moment

This Moment

Finding your love on this two-way street

But isn’t that what poetry is?

The passion that makes you wanna

Close the door behind you

After mama done left the house to work the overnight shift

With Donna hiding in the closet

Snuck in like that high yella chick in

Cooley High

And the pain in mama’s face arriving in the morning

To lovingly

Patiently

Make your breakfast before school

And off to clean more houses before nine

Just so I can rhythmically grind on time with you

In the blue lights of the basement

 

The juxtaposition still don’t make sense

Does it?

But you gotta pay attention

Word hard

Straight

“A’s”

In poetry class

Becoming a

Writer of poems

So you can

juxtaposition all you want

 

And still

Today

Tomorrow

No one will understand

But it’s alright

 

Keep grinding in rhythm

Below the fading blue lights

in the basement