1  i come to read them poems

i come to read them poems,
a fancy trick i do
like juggling with balls of light
i stand, a dark spinner,
in the grange hall,
in the library, in the
smaller conference room,
and toss and catch as if by magic,
my eyes bright, my mouth smiling,
my singed hands burning.

2  the history

1800’s in this town
fourteen longhouses were destroyed
by not these people here.
not these people
burned the crops and chopped down
all the peach trees.
not these people. these people
preserve peaches, even now.

3  the tour
“this was a female school.
my mother’s mother graduated
second in her class.
they were taught embroidery,
and chenille and filigree,
ladies’ learning, yes,
we have a liberal history here.”
smiling she pats my darky head.

4  the hall
in this hall
dark women
scrubbed the aisles
between the pews
on their knees.
they could not rise
to worship.
in this hall
dark women
my sisters and mothers

though i speak with the tongues
of men and of angels and
have not charity…

in this hall
dark women, 
my sisters and mothers,
i stand
and let the church say
let the church say
let the church say
AMEN.

5  the reading
i look into none of my faces
and do the best i can.
the human hair between us
stretches but does not break.
i slide myself along it and
love them, love them all.

6 it is late
it is late
in white america.
i stand
in the light of
7-11
looking out toward
the church
and for a moment only
i feel the reverberation
of myself
in white america
a black cat
in the belfry
hanging 
and 
ringing.