Dear Shango

owner of fire and me,

god of breaking hearts,

red and white you bleed,

all the while steadily leaking me,

saying I’m your favorite,

while others you keep,

I’m Oya to you,

lighting you are,

I’m struck again by

your  lightning rod,

struck repeatedly,

until no more,

all I could express

is Dear Shango.

 

-Oya

 

 

 

 

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Coup d’etat

a coup d’etat,

unseated,

dethroned, alone,

in this wilderness

of a nothingness

well-known.

 

Smelling stale,

oh’  fresh betrayal,

you defeat me,

with my own love.

You usurped my tears,

acted out my fears,

and replaced us with

a vandalized love.

 

Oh deceitful offender,

each cell I surrendered,

while you whittled me down

flaw for flaw.

of it I tended

with hope my heart be mended

until this final coup d’etat.

 

Copyright@Nichelle Calhoun 2014

 

 

He Says

No flows,

No rose,

No dare-I-suppose,

I assuage your heart,

Til the tenderness goes.

 

No kiss,

No rock,

No dare-I-unlock,

The vulnerability inherent

In this novela plot.

 

No chance,

No plea,

No lovesick thief,

Would make me do more to cause you injury.

 

No more,  no more he said I’m putting forth my hand,

Clean up and recovery from the damage of the last man.

You are worthy,

especially in this emotional quicksand

to feel

beautiful.

 

Copyright@Nichelle Calhoun 2014

Four days In

The flowers are still alive.

The dress unworn.

The pain is fresh.

But, we are dead.

the Truth

Caribbean Sea salt on southern wounds,

I pay for Eve as you live out your manhood on the broken chards of my trust,

Sea salt runs from your soil-colored- fingers,

Dirt and sting enter places I once presumed you’d close,

Your superficial attempts reign like an empire,

But fall, wobbling to quarter-truths,

You declare yourself not the victor, but the victim,

And then collapse to the reality

That even if the dream was tight in your grasp,

You wouldn’t know how to keep it. 

Copyright © 2012 Nichelle Calhoun