FLOOD
Bee is out in the Bayou
cutting some tracks
me I be drinking
skipping stones, drinking
some of her lemonade
got a bit today drunk on it
then watched your blues movie
(the one
where you were Miss Etta
singing you would.
rather go blind)
wonderd how
you could spin gold
in your land of cotton
Marigold dress reborn
baseball batting those
windshields apart
and Warsan
Shire
words threading through
the cloth
kneaded into
the dough
get those words finger painted
at least, if not tattooed
write their calligraphy
across a dancer’s body now
everything
on six
inch heels
moving in full formation
Mississippi
night magic
Texas Bama
police car sinking submerging
like the Hunley
or
the Nautilus
epic how these streams
flow together
a world in flood
poems 2 die for 