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Art imitating life!

life.resurrecting.art

On the day I was Born

Before anyone could predict her actions, the mistress rushed into the kitchen area of the one room shanty, retrieved a magnificent knife from one of three drawers and returned to my mother’s bedside. Withholding mercy, she plunged the knife into my mother’s rapidly beating heart. Deep, deep down to the handle, exerting a grunt and anguished cry with the effort.

The woman helping to bring me into the world let go of my head.

My birth was delayed to comfort the murderer. My head was in the world while my body was not. My head was in the world while my body was not. My head was in a whirl, in a whirl, in a whirl. My head was in the world. My body was not.

Neither woman considered assisting my mother with the knife buried to the handle in her chest. They raced to the hysterical, screaming mistress, whose hands were covered in blood.

The unnamed midwife rocked the mistress gently like a baby, patting her quivering shoulders with the hands that had cradled my head. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhh”, she shushed while rocking the woman to comfort.

My mother’s eyes, I am told, were wide open, fixed.

Sensing my mother’s demise, I breathed a breath and let loose my first cry.

My head was in the world.

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Kisses for Fifty-cent Pieces

At the age of twelve, preacher eyes open wide at the sight of you. Sometimes ten. Fifty-cent pieces are pressed into palms as a tithe. The gum is wrapped in paper sunshine!

They never say "Don't tell" because the preacher men choose the pretty girls belonging to tired mothers: "Lawd, I'm so tired. Girl go outside and play."

Memorial Drive, MLK and Metropolitan are terrible roads to cross. No place for a girl child to play. Send them to Sunday school where they will be safe. Let the preachers lay hands on them. Turn them into little whores.

There a many whores.

There are whore wives, women who give it up for a last name. Then whore wife opens her legs, cooks meals, and cleanses briefs of skid marks, among other whore wife duties. Wives get the trouble. the worry. The soiled underwear. The last name legitimizes her existence otherwise, she still gets fucked. ...

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