Dedicated to my daughter, Evita Brown
_____from For the Teacake Girls, a book of poetry and short stories
***************************************

She swings her arms towards the blue painted skies up in glory
while the blood belly roles through her veins

She struts her steps toward the running brooks of happiness while her memories are still strawberry fresh and sweet in her teacake virgin hands

She washes her summertime face filled with airy springtime tears down in hallelujah stomps made from her sisters paving the way

She gets on up and shakes herself off and sifts the golden nectar of her straying thoughts as the drippings escape like brown mollassy syrup into her fiesty heart

She dances while the evening dew is still wet with hope

She runs before the morning cries in the face of her nakedness, before the chord breaks and the purple rains run grey