ESSEX HEMPHILL

"Black Beans"

____________________

Times are lean,

Pretty Baby,

the beans are burnt

to the bottom

of the battered pot.

Let’s make fierce love

on the over-stuffed,

hand-me-down sofa.

We can burn it up, too.

Our hungers

will evaporate like-money.

I smell your lust,

not the pot burnt black

with tonight’s meager meal.

So we can’t buy flowers

for our table

Our kisses are petals,

our tongues caress the bloom.

Who dares to tell us

we are poor and powerless?

We keep treasure

any king would count as dear.

Come on, Pretty Baby.

Our souls can’t be crushed

like cats crossing streets too soon.

Let the beans burn all night long.

Our chipped water glasses are filled

with wine from our loving.

And the burnt black beans-

caviar