Opal Palmer Adisa






at the          island in the     intersection

during a pause     in    the rain


he came at         her

wearing      white  


she had not        wanted

his lips               last night


but at the party         the moon

crawled up her     arms              


the bus       stopped 

to her right       a truck to the left


she don't          want to      know   him

out       in the    light of day


she       paused             long enough   

then     turned              away





the moon might be



but laughter loitered

on every face


if there was no flour

she would use dirt


there would be bread

she didn't have to know


others did and knowing

was collective


generosity was being

a glowing planet daily




SONCOYA (annona)


something about

being on her knees


the impossible possibility

of all that it means


turning over dirt

pulling weeds


pruning trees

planting seeds


the sedimentary familiar feel

of the  compliant soil


on her fingers

the brown wet aroma


tomatoes will sprout

stretching sweetly crimson


as will eggplants

short but shinny mauve


elegant sun-flowers

and robust zinnias


the earth unyielding