Fanon's Secret Poem by Gabeba Baderoon
Fanon's Secret
The grape-picker holds out
his hand full of fruit but turns
his face, the slight, unavailable cast
of his head his most precious possession.
The woman who cleans your house
all day is in the places you can't be,
touches your sheets.
You hate
what is held back,
not known to you,
kept, stolen, enchanted.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: places,house
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8/29/2026 11:09:24 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
