hole

dis suit of clothes jus as empty
as a sky wid no stars
two years a workin   savin money
den   john drop out my heart

i dont want ta see his wife
i knows dat she is me
i’se could go in   shootin de rifle
let my angry run free

bes not   just my temper risin
no use stoking dead fire
but ta see his face one mo time
now lord   jus you on high

if he make do widout me now
i can make do lord   i can make do

Quraysh Ali Lansana, "hole" from They Shall Run: Harriet Tubman Poems, published by Third World Press. Copyright © 2004 by Quraysh Ali Lansana.  Reprinted by permission of the author.
Source: They Shall Run: Harriet Tubman Poems (Third World Press, 2004)
More Poems by Quraysh Ali Lansana