Poem 2: NPM 30 Poems in 30 Days

Remember the Day We Discovered the Poetry of Ntozake Shange

As you nurse the baby by the opaque windows,
your words fill the gap between now and the day
we discovered the poetry of Ntozake Shange.

You weave a tale of joining the peace corps, falling in love,
intestinal parasites, and conceiving, with words colored
like the Ecuadorian tapestry hanging between the opaque windows:

ochre, violet, green threads intertwined on an ecru background.
Your tale's aesthetic hangs in the air, then disappears.
Remember the day we discovered the poetry of Ntozake Shange?

We wept as a rainbow’s hues colored our black and white lives,
as pain waltzed clumsily. Paper collects dust on your desk;
nursing the baby by the opaque windows,

you don't have time to fill pages with crafted phrases,
to layout tales of dark eyed women, slow days, and fertile earth.
Do you remember the day we discovered Ntozake Shange?

We said we would weave our words, our rainbows’ hues,
into resplendent cloth, enwrap girls, women.
As you nurse the baby by the opaque windows,
remember the day we discovered the poetry of Ntozake Shange.