Black Poetry : A Proud Woman

[Mario William vitale]

Stars, crisp in the deep plot

pulling off, late snow clouds

clean themselves

The river lets loose the carp,

coughs beneath its frozen part



Drippings on the roof hit the gutter

Ice branches ripped off in wind are waterborne

In the house, a rim of cheese is quiet

There is a chunk of lard to be rendered



I should hang pails on the trees and wait for sugar

I want to tie off the time like a bith cord

chewed broken in a proud woman's teeth

My navel is gone, the moon up,

in a month or two my hands will be in pain



Ever believe there will be someone asking something from her