Ash, Rain, Clay and Smoke. Photo by Robert Rath from Robert’s website.
Hello day two.
The title of today’s poem is from a rather enigmatic essay I was reading today called ‘The Laugh of the Medusa’ by French feminist Hélène Cixous in 1976.
We are black and we are beautiful
like the barrel of a Beretta
like pudding: blood and bone
like a length of salted liquorice
like the slick-swoop of a crow
like your morning-kickstart coffee
like a Nazi’s polished boot
like a layer of tar for feathers
like your formal mourning suit
like the ink on first-love letters
like Roisín; mail; and mass
like a supermodel’s mascara
like a hole; a little dress
like a porcelain black cowry
like keys that tone a chord
like that mongrel on your shoulder
or your winning, ace-filled hand
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