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african american poetry

mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
hace mil años silenciosos
no esté enojado con mí
ésta es la nave de la perla
mientras que estaba parado escuchar, discreto mudo
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
encima del sur en la rotura del día
por completo de rasgones
asustado no más, digo
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
hace tres años hoy
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte

 



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