Three Sisters
—Poems by Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
—Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
—Poems by Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
—Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
1994
i was leaving my fifty-eighth year
when a thumb of ice
stamped itself hard near my heart
you have your own story
you know about the fears the tears
the scar of disbelief
you know that the saddest lies
are the ones we tell ourselves
you know how dangerous it is
to be born with breasts
you know how dangerous it is
to wear dark skin
i was leaving my fifty-eighth year
when i woke into the winter
of a cold and mortal body
thin icicles hanging off
the one mad nipple weeping
have we not been good children
did we not inherit the earth
but you must know all about this
from your own shivering life
Limes and Lemons
the garden of delight
for some
it is stone
bare smooth
as a buttock
rounding
into the crevasse
of the world
for some
it is extravagant
water mouths wide
washing together
forever for some
it is fire
for some air
and for some
certain only of the syllables
it is the element they
search their lives for
eden
for them
it is a test
Becoming Yellow
poem in praise of menstruation
if there is a river
more beautiful than this
bright as the blood
red edge of the moon if
there is a river
more faithful than this
returning each month
to the same delta if there
is a river
braver than this
coming and coming in a surge
of passion, of pain if there is
a river
more ancient than this
daughter of eve
mother of cain and of abel if there is in
the universe such a river if
there is some where water
more powerful than this wild
water
pray that it flows also
through animals
beautiful and faithful and ancient
and female and brave
Soup in a Bag
cutting greens
curling them around
i hold their bodies in obscene embrace
thinking of everything but kinship.
collards and kale
strain against each strange other
away from my kissmaking hand and
the iron bedpot.
the pot is black,
the cutting board is black,
my hand,
and just for a minute
the greens roll black under the knife,
and the kitchen twists dark on its spine
and I taste in my natural appetite
the bond of live things everywhere.
Sweet Potatoes
won't you celebrate with me
won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
Glass Angel
blessing the boats (at St. Mary's)
may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
People wish to be poets more than they wish to write poetry, and that’s a mistake. One should wish to celebrate more than one wishes to be celebrated.
—Lucille Clifton
___________________
Our gratitude to Katy Brown for today’s photos as we celebration the poetry of Lucille Clifton! For more about Lucille Clifton, go to www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/lucille-clifton/.
And a reminder that Poetry Off-the-Shelves meets today, 5-7pm, in Placerville at the El Dorado County Library on Fair Lane. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
Lucille Clifton
Won’t you celebrate with me?
Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.
