Toi Derricotte Poems
|1.||from Burial Sites||6/26/2015|
|2.||Black Boys Play the Classics||7/3/2015|
|3.||Elegy For My Husband||1/29/2015|
|4.||A Note On My Son's Face||1/7/2015|
|5.||For Black Women Who Are Afraid||1/9/2015|
|7.||From A Letter: About Snow||12/19/2011|
Comments about Toi Derricotte
That time my grandmother dragged me
through the perfume aisles at Saks, she held me up
by my arm, hissing, "Stand up,"
through clenched teeth, her eyes
bright as a dog's
cornered in the light.
She said it over and over,
as if she were Jesus,
and I were dead.She had been
solid as a tree,
a fur around her neck, a
light-skinned matron whose car was parked, who walked
marble and passed through
brass openings--in 1945.
There was not even a black
elevator operator at Saks.
The saleswoman had brought velvet
leggings to lace ...