it’s the poor fabrics we’ve worn all of our lives that have roughen our skin she said with a menthol sigh

her sister runs her ankles swollen with years of defeat and three lost sons one buried in the ground and two alive within a legal sepulchre

what the doctor say about the sugar in your blood and did Titi pay the light bill on time because the worker’s coming on Friday

a fly lands on her fractured hand and she shoots it away with her thirty five dollar salon acrylic thumb nail the charms and doodads were free

I’m suppose to cook dinner for Brother Murphy and his wife for the wake of his momma Lord rest her in peace I heard she left him some land in Tennessee

carefully following the mailman with her dark brown eyes she hopes to get a letter from her daughter telling her she’s won the fight against the slumlord in Selma

you know if we put our checks together we can buy Kayla that puppy she wants but how do we hide it from HACLA

the sweat on her brow she’s lied about playing it off as the vapors gets harder to hide under her cornrows as the tumor begins to rise

you should take some B vitamins for your aches and pains by the way Dwayne called at 8 talking about he wants his money by tomorrow

the African Violet out on her patio turns to look at her as she fill a cracked styrofoam cup with cool water from the sink takes a silent sip and quenches the soil of the thirsty velvety faces