Harryette Mullen
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A Brand of Love
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I want her superstitious about me,
so she put me on like an amulet—
never take me off.
I want to pierce her like a hot needle
that hurts only for a second.
I want to be the gold
she hang in her earlobe,
swinging out to touch her cheekbone
when she laugh
or when she shake her head.
Want her wearing my smell like perfume.
My smell on her body
like a “No Trespassing” sign.
I want to touch her with fire
from the burning bush
so she’ll always feel my fingers
hot on her skin.
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Easter Colors
for Easter Pittman, who pieced the quilt
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would it be safe to wash this quilt?
it smells like an old lady’s attic
but it is so beautiful
even dirty
the colors are joining hands and dancing
a pattern repeating itself
it reminds me of Busby Berkeley musicals
the geometric dances
k a l e i d o s c o p i n g colors
squares triangles diamonds and stars
circles
the patterns
your greatgramma made
pieced-together colors from clothes
handed down
and down again
till no one else could wear them
a pattern repeating itself
tonight we add to attic memories
wrapped in the warmth of this quilt
the new/old smell of our sleep
old clothes odors
smells of beds and bodies
they the music the colors be dancing to
the patterns repeating
would it be safe to wash this quilt?
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