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User Rating:
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10.0
/10
(2 votes)
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Now that my afro's as big as Shaft's
I feel a little better about myself.
How it warms my bullet-head in Winter,
black halo, frizzy hat of hair.
Shaft knew what a crown his was,
an orb compared to the bush
on the woman sleeping next to him.
(There was always a woman
sleeping next to him. I keep thinking,
If I'd only talk to strangers. . .
grow a more perfect head of hair.)
His afro was a crown.
Bullet after barreling bullet,
fist-fights & car chases,
three movies & a brief TV series,
never one muffled strand,
never dampened by sweat--
I sweat in even the least heroic of situations.
I'm sure you won't believe this,
but if a policeman walks behind me, I tremble:
What would Shaft do? What would Shaft do?
Bits of my courage flake away like dandruff.
I'm sweating even as I tell you this,
I'm not cool,
I keep the real me tucked beneath a wig,
I'm a small American frog.
I grow beautiful as the theatre dims.
Terrance Hayes
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, January 20, 2003 |
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Read poems about / on: frog, woman, courage, hair, car, believe, winter, beautiful, sleep, women
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Comments about this poem (Shafro
by
Terrance Hayes
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M Fazek (12/7/2008 8:24:00 PM)
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I love hayes poetry! he experiments with self image in the wake of pop culture.
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Kash Earley (4/24/2008 9:11:00 PM)
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Wow! Saw it all, and I am so filled, and full....that you are out there in this mist. You Terrance with the wonder of words....and makin' in real. I thank you for that.
Kash Earley
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