B.C. Poem by Charlina Daitouah Smith
B.C.
I present crisp dollar bills and
a human deity.
Settling in the circle of dust, hands
and interlocked feet, making bitter
obeisance.
I search for new gods. My fathers’
gods left for the city.
So, I stand before translucent
beings in the seat of gods,
who grope for answers to the unsearchable
questions of my disillusioned heart.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: answers,city,fathers
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8/28/2026 9:24:11 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
