Kitchen Talk Poem by Jessica Care Moore

we cook with ntozakes recipes
we weave word quilts
we hide our stories inside our belly
we are the soft place language breathes before it's pushed into sound
we are the whisper in the hush of crowds
we read eyes
we are warriors traveling without fear
or are we just a myth?

maybe black girls don't really exist at all
perhaps we are the vicious rumor
circuling at the center of twice bitten snakes
maybe our mommas never taught us to bake
and this is the ancient secret that will save the world
that some black women can't fry chicken
or barefoot and pregnant is okay
if your husband paints your toes & pours your tea
we are the lie of rape the molestation of memory
creeping into our subconscious when someone says
he loves you after you've fallen out of love with him
or maybe this life is all just a fairy tale
and ndambi's little girl blue is the truth
cause words have hurt me deeper than any
blunt object or bullet chasing me down a detroit street
hell, we can duck or out run the hot steel
I'd rather pull a fast approaching word out from the air
and make your whole body stand still
make worship what you will
I wish for simplicity in moments
pray they'll understand why after six years
you still need to hear them to say how they feel
why you pretend to not put your pride
in the way of your walk
why your hair grease fried those eggs
& the last dollar to your name bought a sunflower
cause you are collecting dirt under your nails
and taking wolf dancing classes on Friday nights
anything but serve the ones who refuse to praise you
who defecated on your grandmommas spirit
the smell follows us, but our noses have fallen off
or we have carved them up to take a better picture
still, we flip the pans and draw blood for aunt jemima
tomorrow morning, we will promise to protest the sun
we will beg for the night to save us & do cartweels with angels
who know damn well, our wings are still in the shop
but if you just give us some time - we will recover
like a child growing in her sleep, we are wiser after we dream of being
awake
cornbread gypsies who don't know how to fake love
because they are love at the very moment they decide
to cook for you