Dirty Stones
The Super Model
never minced words about
those “dirty-looking stones”
that came in a dirty-looking pouch
in the middle of the night
in dirty-looking Africa
The Magi (two this time)
who brought the gift
bowed dutifully low and left
Our Super Model
asked no questions
sought no answers
even as she threw open her door
to two imperfect strangers
in the middle of a dirty-looking night
The Super Model
swore she never heard about
how flirtatious Charlie Taylored that pouch
from the scrotums of castrated men
and the crusted blood which lent
the stone their dirty coat.
Has the Super Model
ever seen amputated dreams
cat-walking the runway
of dirty-looking jungles, while handless
Stone Children* clapped, and pogromed
hordes watched with hollow eyes?
Thanks to the Court’s Geography lesson,
our Super Model
heard the word “Liberia”
for the first time;
what a dirty-looking buzz it left
in her regal ears!
The universe bows in remorse
for this dirty-looking inconvenience
to Charlie’s Angel. . .
Now, on to the Laundromat!
*Reference to Stone Child, Syl Cheney-Coker’s recently published collection of poems.
Leave a Reply