POEM: LONELY WOMAN

photo by Alex Lear

 

 

LONELY WOMAN 

 

to be thot by the world as nonattractive

is so cruel a twist of birth

to be told yr weight is too much or not

enuf, yr face shape "ah... well, unique"

 

not to look like tv & cable

not to walk like magazines

not to smell like designed aromas

is so much

the way life really is

 

despite tons of pretty people

crisscrossing this century

beauty remains a rare thing, as rare as

infant eyes in an adult head

 

somewhere after high

school (& a prom nite that shouldda been my first

abortion) u wonder: is there any

            one

            in this whole wide

            kaleidoscope who can truly, truly...

 

            what i mean by "truly" is

            be sincere in feeling, &

understand how that mustard spot spilt

            on my blouse may be several days old

            but i'm not a filthy person, yes

            a bit uncaring abt neatness but you

            could eat off the floor in my kitchen...

                        (that's a joke...)

            i don't have any chairs in my kitchen

            & sometimes when i come in late at night

            i sit on the floor & eat chinese in the semi-dark

            ha-ha, ...

 

love excites me & loveless sex turns me off

is that confusing? like a lake

at high tide i totally open

myself to someone i love & if i don't

i only want him to hurry up & be over

although i never kiss & never tell

them that--we all know

there is such a thing

as too much reality

 

but if i could find a man somewhat

like my cat, i could touch him & talk to him

tell all, focus on sanity

& share slices of apple & my dimpleless

smile, the strange odor of my hair when its

wet by the silver rain i've walked into

to forget the dryness of days

 

at work they train me in congeniality

show me how to smile at strangers

with money in their hands

my mother told me never to do that

if you saw my chronology

you would look at my finger

nails and shake your head

the bitten edges confirmation

that loneliness is

a compulsive eating disorder &

what i do with my hands

a blues connotation

 

did i mention i'm black?

well dark brown really (smile...)

& female once a menses,

i'm ramblin' aren't i?

 

on a job application

for a position i never got

i once put down "ornette coleman"

as kin to notify because of that song

he made: "lonely woman"

 

i'm sure he stole those sound-tears

from someone he had hurt, made cry--

cause

            no man

            has ever

            really felt

            like that

 

—kalamu ya salaam