The Death Dance
for Maxine
my empty steps mashed
your face in a mad
rhythm of happiness.
as if i was just learning to
boo-ga-loo.
my mother took the
‘b’ train to the loop
to seek work & was laughed at by
some dumb, eye-less image maker as
she scored idiot on “your” i. q. test.
i watched mom;
an ebony mind
on a yellow frame.
“i got work son, go back to school.”
(she was placed according to her
intelligence into some hankie’s kitchen)
i thought & my steps
took on a hip be-bop beat
on your little brain
trying to reach any of
your senseless senses.
mom would come home late
at night & talk sadtalk
or funny sadtalk. she talked
about a pipe smoking sissy
who talked sissy-talk & had
sissy sons who were forever playing
sissy games with themselves
& then she would say,
“son you is a man, a black man.”
i was now tap-dancing on your
balls & you felt no pain
my steps were beating a staccato
message that told of the past 400 years.
the next day mom cried &
sadtalked me. she talked about
the eggs of maggot colored,
gaunt creatures from europe
who came here/put on pants, stopped eating with their hands,
stole land, massacred indians,
hid from the sun, enslaved blacks &
thought that they were substitutes
for gods. she talked about a
faggot who grabbed her ass as
she tried to get out of the
backdoor of his kitchen & she said,
“son you is a man, a black man.”
the African ballet
was now my guide; a teacher of self &
the dance of a people.
a dance of concept & essence.
i grew.
mom stayed home & the
ADC became my father/in projects without
backdoors/“old grand dad” over
the cries of bessie smith/
until pains didn’t pain anymore.
i began to dance dangerous steps,
warrior’s steps
my steps took on a cadence with other blk/brothers
& you could hear the cracking of
gun shots in them & we said that,
“we were men, black men.”
i took the ‘b’ train to the loop &
you SEE me coming,
you don’t like it,
you can’t hide &
you can’t stop me.
you will not laugh this time.
you know,
that when i dance again
it will be the
Death Dance.
Copyright Credit: Haki Madhubuti, "The Death Dance" from Groundwork: New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 1996 by Haki Madhubuti. Reprinted by permission of Third World Press.