Tar Baby

A grown woman did not need safety or its dreams. She was the safety she longed for.

I am twenty-five and this feeling is too old for me.

Mama-spoiled black man, will you mature with me? Culture-bearing black woman, whose culture are you bearing?

wanted her to settle for wifely competence when she could be almighty, to settle for fertility rather than originality, nurturing instead of building.

Stop loving your ignorance—it isn’t lovable.”

Did he do anything hard for you? Did he give up anything important for you?”

The manifesto was simple: “Talk shit. Take none.”

Here prestressed concrete and steel contained anger, folded it back on itself to become a craving for things rather than vengeance.

the fruit of the banana trees puffed up and stiff like the fingers of gouty kings.