Harlem, 1929
He leapfrogs the trade
winds
pawns superstition for smokes
lard-loosens jammed shoots
prophet of dusky raiment
& mechanic curls smashes
quart bottles loosens trills
of bootleg miscellany
on a hot night girls of blood-red
lip and money-eye
spin in the cards parlor
boys bring hooch & orchids &
everything goes yellow
a palimpsest of tar & sticky plastic
a ripe rot of mottled tongues
our boy coiled in tenebrous cloak
at the sunrise window
by morning back at his corner
tipping one out
for his dead.
