“A day so happy.”
I write on the bluffs of the Mississippi
After being a mute, all day, in a
Whorehouse, pleasures abounding but no way
To call out for fares.
I sit over the river
And realize my thoughts have been speaking
For me though the purity
Of my action.
The fields become quilts of
Mauve and amber and my bitterness
Is honey in my mouth.
I speak of a sweet freedom
I taste in my bones; I do not feel silent.
My tongue is an animal.
And speak and laugh
Without making more noise
than a smile does.