NYU Black Renaissance Noire Volume 18 Issue 1 - Winter 2018 - Page 84

Prelude and not A little more about her Stubborn and sage each night my pen starts a lengthy ink strike undressing without turning off the light or asking about the neighbors Invent an angel and give her your seat at cocktail time and rush hour in this plaza with more benches than pigeons ditching me as though it were a Monday blank page soft music and you lazily emerging from my pillow. look then for a proper name for your fiction and pour it carefully over her hair avoiding a caress that might break the spell enjoy the fleeting moment your audacity proffers and do not open the newspaper nor consult your watch two sad and inappropriate habits in front of that cleavage with white wings who observes you meticulously as someone sharpening a pencil and discreetly raises her eyebrows when she uncrosses with that slowness that only they have maybe her name is Lola she has a mole a scarf and you will never see her again