Solange

Sol
Ange
Earth
Angel

Deep brown eyes set in khol innocent despair cast in stone
Your high arched brow asks sweet questions of hard life
Sol-ange with feet that cannot fly tread softly on master’s heart while the others run
Pounding the red earth smooth beneath the soles of soldiers’ boots beneath
The souls of fighting folk
Solange of the delicate thighs and soft rounded belly
Solange of the wide-open legs and small curly bush
On her knees
Praying for mankind

Sol
Ange
Earth
Angel

Making beautiful earth music while the man-guns boom
Masking the wild untamed bush that stopped up Douglass’ head wound
Underneath a maid’s scarf
A maiden’s place on an infinite chessboard
Small small hands brought to life by the blood running gently through delicate baby veins
When they finally take you away from here the paramedic will have to use a butterfly needle

Solange sits in the dark foaming water and waits for a full revolution turning on axes of power.pleasure.pain
She treads the churning waves with light steps
Angel of the Earth enjambement of connecting waters of history as liquid spaces
From port to plantation homestead to habitation
Shackle and carte de sejour
Solange begins her marronage from le pays des droits de l’homme

Sol
Ange
Earth Angel
We cannot take her seriously

She will carry the child with her to mythical Africa
She will greet her ancestors and bless her descendants and
Soon
Solange will return to heaven to construct her case with bits of earth
And braid into her hair the pearls that God once cast before the swine

© Annie Quarcoopome