The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (9 page)

Teachers of my
 early youth

Taught forgiveness
 stressed the truth

Here then is my
 Christian lack:

If I'm struck then
I'll strike back.

Of falling leaves and melting
snows, of birds
in their delights
Some poets sing
their melodies
tendering my nights
sweetly.

My pencil halts
and will not go
along that quiet path.
I need to write
of lovers false

and hate
and hateful wrath
quickly.

Discard the fear and what
was she? Of rag and bones
a mimicry of woman's
fairy-ness
Archaic at its birth.

Discharge the hate and when
was he? Disheveled moans
a mimesis of man's
estate
deceited for its worth.

Dissolve the greed and why
were they? Enfeebled thrones
a memory of mortal
kindliness
exiled from this earth.

He bad
O he bad
He make a honky
poot. Make a honky's
blue eyes squint
anus tight, when
my man look in
the light blue eyes.

He thinks
He don't play
His Afro crown raises
eyes. Raises eyebrows
of wonder and dark
envy when he, combed
out, hits the street.

He sleek
Dashiki
Wax-printed on his skin
remembrances of Congo dawns
laced across his chest.
Red Blood Red and Black.

He bought
O he got
Malcolm's paper
back. Checked out the
photo, caught a few godly
lines. Then wondered how
many wives/daughters of
Honky (miscalled The Man)
bird snake
caught, dug them both.
(Him, Fro-ed Dashiki-ed
and the book.)

He stashed
He stands stashed
Near, too near the MLK
Library. P.S. naught
naught naught. Breathing
slaughter on the Malcolm X
Institute. Whole fist
balled, fingers pressing
palm. Shooting up through
Honky's blue-eyed sky.

“BLACK IS!”
“NATION TIME!”
“TOMORROW'S GLORY HERE TODAY”

Pry free the hand
Observe our Black present.
There lie soft on that
copper palm, a death of
coke. A kill of horse
eternal night's barbiturates.
One hundred youths
sped down to
Speed.

He right
O he bad
He badder than death
yet gives no sweet
release.

She was afraid of men,
sin and the humors
of the night.
When she saw a bed
locks clicked
in her brain.

She screwed a frown
around and plugged
it in the keyhole.
Put a chain across
her door and closed
her mind.

Her bones were found
round thirty years later
when they razed
her building to
put up a parking lot.

Autopsy read:
dead of acute peoplelessness.

I almost remember
smiling some years past
even combing the ceiling
with the teeth of a laugh
(longer ago than the
smile).
Open night news-eyed I watch
channels of hunger
written on children's faces
bursting bellies balloon
in the air of my day room.

There was a smile, I recall
now jelled in
a never yester glow. Even a laugh
that tickled the tits of
heaven
(older than the smile).
In graphs, afraid, I see the black
brown hands and
white thin yellowed fingers

Slip slipping from the
ledge of life. Forgotten by
all but hatred.
Ignored
by all but disdain.

On late evenings when
quiet inhabits my garden
when grass sleeps and
streets are only paths for silent
mist

I seem to remember
Smiling.

Even sunlight dares
and trembles through
my bars
to shimmer
dances on
the floor.
A clang of
lock and
keys and heels
and blood-dried
guns.
Even sunshine
dares.

It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.

Guard grey men
serve plates of rattle
noise and concrete
death and beans.
Then pale sun stumbles
through the poles of
iron to warm the horror
of grey guard men.

It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.

Black night. The me
myself of me sleeks
in the folds and history
of fear. To secret hold
me deep and close my
ears of lulls and clangs
and memory of hate.
Then night and sleep
and dreams.

It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.

Your smile, delicate
rumor of peace.
Deafening revolutions nestle in the
cleavage of
your breasts.
Beggar-Kings and red-ringed Priests
seek glory at the meeting
of your thighs.
A grasp of Lions. A lap of Lambs.

Your tears, jeweled
strewn a diadem
caused Pharaohs to ride
deep in the bosom of the
Nile. Southern spas lash fast
their doors upon the night when
winds of death blow down your name
A bride of hurricanes. A swarm of summer wind.