Heroes - This is dedicated to Michael Jackson

We ask where all of our heroes have gone
even as we pick their skin from our teeth.
We love them as our favorite foods, consume them to extinction and wonder
(while we rub our bellies) why our table seems so bare.

We snort their guitar licks, guzzle their voices,
chomp on their words as if they are owed us
Poets light themselves on fire
because they can't help it and we gather round
to warm our hands upon such a lovely glow

We maim our leaders for their presumption to lead
and cry foul when we are lost, we mourn our losses
yet never consider them consequence
to our own greedy violence

We devour the fruit until the tree will bear no more
and feel betrayed once we've eaten it barren.
We have become vampires. We have made ourselves cannibals,
quick to throw her in the pot when she is no longer beautiful,
toss him in the fire once we cease to find him useful.

Still form our mouths around words like love
simply regurgitating pieces of the spirits we have swallowed
in a desperate attempt to remember their taste

I belch bitter eulogies in apology, blood still fresh on my lips,
I'm sorry to all who died just trying to love us
We snatched at your flesh while you still had breath,

gnawed your bones in search of redemption
as if to touch the hem of your garment
we worship and hate with equal fervor, waving our
knives and forks for the next big thing.

Jump Back, Honey, Jump Back

“Don’t forget who you are,”
She said.

“Don’t forget when you’re out there
with your friends
that before you were born
there was a place for you here, in my house

where we sing like Angels
dance like drops of water in a hot iron skillet
and glow like distant stars.”

We stay up late with the hot comb and grease
We wake up early for braids and beads
We walk to church five times a week

“There is still a place for you here, in my house,”
She says,
“where we shower love and sprinkle correction
smile into each other like mirrors
and remind ourselves of Home.”

Nana will let you eat steak at midnight
Nana will cry sometimes for no reason
Nana will open her doors for you

“There will always be a place for you here, in my house,”
She says,
“when it turns cold outside and you’ve gone too far
when the street lights come on and you see
the game is over.”

Leading me out of the lion’s mouth
though my soul looks back and wonders how
I think I understand what she’s been talking about

“Don’t forget who you are,”
She said.

“Always remember where you come from.”