Amethyst [Poem]

This is a poem by Phillip Shabazz.

No more cold fire journey. Now you make a sea from lakes

of the stars. You smile a moonlit island. Tender, in a bed of gardenias.

The lace lays a kiss on your skin to accent your entourage

of ebony curls, all we cherish you for. Earth souls, mercies   

draw close from candlelight inside your bedroom.

Let your sparkling midnight pool our eyes, and   

in your wind, wade light into the sun that connects 

each endless bridge with the dense purple in amethyst.

Even as eternity blinks away the stop signs,  

your laughter loosens the colors of song 

in splashes, spills on the table, scuff marks in the rug.

Whatever jubilee or hootenanny leaves no broken lamps, 

no lesions to fall in, you hand it bread and wine.

Not spirits alone, we are earth, but someone 

to sit beside us. Glimmer in us like a goddess in the rain, 

dropped off at the gate and seen walking toward our door.  

Phillip Shabazz is the author of Flames in The Fire, XYZoom, Freestyle and Visitation, and a novel in verse, When the Grass Was Blue. His poetry has been included in the anthologies, Literary Trails of the North Carolina Piedmont: A Guidebook, and Home Is Where: African-American Poetry from the Carolinas. He works as a poet-in the-schools in North Carolina. Previous publication credits include: Across The Margin, American Voice, Fine Lines, Galway Review, Obsidian, and Louisville Review.


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