for and after Erica Dawson
Another night of "I'm not usually into black
guys but..." and I'm alone with Johnny Walker black
and too many movies. I'm not offended. No black
moods at all. I'll watch The Seventh Seal. Black
chess pieces slaying white, live or die, Bergman's black-
est phase. See I'm not mad. But if I were Black
Death right now, I'd slaughter love. Fade to black.
Brides-to-be would roll around in ash, black-
en their dresses and veils in rivers black
as ink: Gather your roses, dye them red to black.
Then they'd hear the gallop. Metal no black-
smith could forge, flaming, sparking, on the black
hooves of four horses—red, green, black,
and white. Who's that? Hallelu! A miracle! Black
skies part and resurrected Love blacks
my eyes and rubs me out beneath his black
sole. No more pain. I'm better. Fade to black.
Bergman's done. I need magic. Call a trick. It's black
and white—he's red all over. I love my black
boys sore. He can't grab my hair, black
brillo pad, curlicues snatched by my black
hand all over the bed and his back like black
script. Give me that nigger dick. His bootblack,
I gave all of him a shining. You're shocked a black
man took that? I've heard his shit before. Black
's an absence, no stimulation for the eye's black
pupil, but I'm right here, still whole (Black
don't crack), and he (Once you go black...)
got off just fine. Sleepless, we debate seeing a black
comedy or a musical, Cukor or Lee. How about Black
Orpheus? On the news, another case of black
on black. Where's the white on black?
The tone on tone? No nuance here. The screen black-
ens, then stutters over an ad for Black
Narcissus (Coming soon to Blu-ray...). Blue-black
night hems into dawn. I'm feeling Blax-
ploitation. How about Coffy, Pam Grier? Black
pin cushion, I've got razors all up in my hair. Black
power. He touches me by not knowing how. Fade to black.