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TWO POEMS
by Reginald
Harris
Twelve
Rounds: Between Rounds
Giving better than we get
we stand toe to toe
until the clanging bell
pulls us apart. Inhaling air
and water in the emptiness of time
I only like it better when the
pain comes washing clean,
heart leaping in my chest, pumping
the need to answer his every shot
with two of mine. Each gloved
caress continues calling, leaves an ache.
My body leans in to listen.
While
the Quartet Plays "Body And Soul"
Louie's
Bookstore Café, Baltimore MD 1998
A man strums his lover's back like a guitar
My heart is sad and lonely
Conversations slide to whispers, end,
For you I sigh, for you dear only,
My heart is sad and lonely
All heads nod, familiar with the tune
For you I sigh, for you dear only,
Ringed fingers splay across a dark-sleeved arm.
All heads nod familiar with the tune
You know I'm yours for just the taking
Ringed fingers splay across a dark-sleeved arm
I'm all for you, body and soul
You know I'm yours for just the taking
Whisky's a welcome fever in the throat
I'm all for you, body and soul
behind me someone whispers
Whisky's a welcome fever in the throat
I can't believe it, it's hard to conceive it
Behind me someone whispers
Are you pretending, it looks like the ending
I can't believe it, it's hard to conceive it
Evening's end plucks the skin like strings
Are you pretending, it looks like the ending
moving through the changes on a mission
Evening's end plucks the skin like strings
My life a wreck you're making
moving through the changes on a mission
I spend my days in longing
My life a wreck you're making
in conversation about the measure of their days
I spend my days in longing
Joy is searching more than destination.
in conversation about the measure of their days
Why haven't you seen it?
Joy is searching more than destination.
I'm all for you, body and soul
Why haven't you seen it?
Conversations slide to whispers, end
I'm all for you, body and soul.
A man strums his lover's back like a guitar.
"Body and Soul" lyrics by Robert B. Sour,
Edward Heyman, and Frank Eyton
Reginald
Harris is author of Ten Tongues (Three Conditions Press,
2002). His work has appeared in a variety of publications including 5
AM, African-American Review, James White Review, and
the Black Silk, Bum Rush the Page and Role Call anthologies.
Head of the Information Technology Support Department for the Enoch Pratt
Library, he lives in Baltimore. |