Five daughters, in the slant light on the porch, are bickering. The eldest has come home with new truths she can hardly wait to teach. She lectures them: the younger daughters search the sky, elbow each others' ribs, and groan. Five daughters, in the slant light on the porch and blue-sprigged dresses, like a stand of birch saplings whose leaves are going yellow-brown with new truths. They can hardly wait to teach, themselves, to be called "Ma'am," to march high-heeled across the hanging bridge to town. Five daughters. In the slant light on the porch Pomp lowers his paper for a while, to watch the beauties he's begotten with his Ann: these new truths they can hardly wait to teach. The eldest sniffs, "A lady doesn't scratch." The third snorts back, "Knock, knock: nobody home." The fourth concedes, "Well, maybe not in church. . ." Five daughters in the slant light on the porch.
I want thirty more years of poems I want tiger lily poems orange blossom poems poems by Lucille Clifton and Suheir Hammad poems by Dionne Brand and Joy Harjo I want Grace Jones to sing she “Bumper song,” sweet and lawless doh care a damn what nobody feel I want Jamaican yard talk poems how I love that Nannie ah de Maroons talk gimme some Trini bush poems spiked with Vat 19 rum and plenty blue hundred dollar bills lots and lots of blue bills so mami cud just stay home brush she hair and count bills make flying fish and dumplings count blue bills and make babies with names like tamarind and flambeau names like one sweet braid down she back names like kneel-n-pray names like inhabited and poems to light white candles poems that blow kerosene and inspire rage poems to taunt the gods and almost get them vex let mami stay home cut oil drums to make steel pan and rock melodies until my dead twin come walking unshaven in de yard with Malik on he arm and say all right all’yuh we home we light ah big yard fire make pigtail soup and smoked duck and Guinness stout ice cream this time around de girls go churn de ice de boys go pour de salt we go praise sing for we dead we go drink old oak rum rub a little on de chiren gums we go brew mauby bark and sorrell and at sixty-seven granny go collect fresh blood an child-bear again Cheryl and mami go get back de twins dey lost at birth da go be bacchanal plenty ting fer neighbors to talk bout.