In my childhood
the poets were thick
as mosquitoes
clouding around
a screen door
after someone
failed to turn out
the porch light,
children played
ignorant of prejudice
and division because
everyone was
the same color
where I
come from.
We didn't know
the difference
between Methodists
and Baptists,
there were
no other gods yet,
We hadn't learned
to hate.
The old women
loved us all
with pretties and
sweets,
and young folks
still fell in love.
When I was
a kid
the cotton patches
seemed endless
and Little Rock
was huge,
my entire world
was Mama and Dad,
three sisters,
two brothers
and me.
My mother
eventually told
me.
And television.
The books I read
under covers
and darkness.
Folks out there
shouted nigger
and queer-
they tore down one
another
hoping to
lift themselves up,
Mama said
there ain't
no poetry
in that.
