by Andre Bagoo
 

Once, in that

Women and men wet
With sweat and rain, fake
Tattoos all over flesh.
Stains. Trousers cut short,
Feathers, beads, confetti—
All mixed up with pitch oil
And dirt and the smell of Sea
Lots. Thousands of them
Marching to the irresistible surface
Of the Savannah, a green space
Compelling all to face
The other side of the Earth.

O the black cowls we wore
With their old, gold chains
And chicken wire masks!
The stage a dangerous surface
Of orange and black smoke
A place where gravity became
Unreliable, and lovers said:
Such as I am, you will be.
Such as you are, I was.

The coffins we carried in that crowd.
They have become six new coffins
In this small yard, with ribbons
And doilies all over their bodies.
Three white candles bring
Silence: the wind is not certain.
What to make of this now?
On the pavement, old
Glitter still shines.

 

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