Oakland Blues

By Ishmael Reed

Well it's six o'clock in Oakland

and the sun is full of wine

I say, it's six o'clock in Oakland

and the sun is red with wine

We buried you this morning, baby

in the shadow of a vine

Well, they told you of the sickness

almost eighteen months ago

Yes, they told you of the sickness

almost eighteen months ago

You went down fighting, daddy. Yes

You fought Death toe to toe

O, the egrets fly over Lake Merritt

and the blackbirds roost in trees

O, the egrets fly over Lake Merritt

and the blackbirds roost in trees

Without you little papa

what O, what will become of me

O, it's hard to come home, baby

To a house that's still and stark

O, it's hard to come home, baby

To a house that's still and stark

All I hear is myself

thinking

and footsteps in the dark

Copyright Credit: Ishmael Reed, "Oakland Blues" from New and Collected Poems. Copyright © 2007 by Ishmael Reed. Reprinted by permission of Lowenstein Associates.

Source: New and Collected Poems (Thunder's Mouth Press, 2007)