Adam Henry Carriere's Winning Submissions to the Nevada Arts Council Fellowship in Poetry
Friday, January 06, 2006
The black is night, the voodoo heart, the ocean without sun. The white moon in black eyes makes tears move like constellations. The skin warms brown and glides copper, black as the sundown, but all are negre. People apart, lady women, boat dwellers, boys who do with boys, all are negre. Negre freedom is the mirror, the chicory reflection seen by mulatto eyes, a second-class image crying, with an ivory smile, 'Negre...I am negre'.
Copyright (c.) 2009 by Adam Henry Carriere. All Rights Reserved.