Literal Silhouette 

Chris Ofili, 2015 @ New Museum

Wise women made of reeds

Rushing into water well above their knees.

Women carrying children, carrying incense, carrying

Scent of themselves,

And the men in their sacks.

Women, lionesses all, who work those bales

Like thread, in and out of economies of loss.

Locusts collecting where their hair begins

Hovering for the color, sweat and scent

of women.

Woman, do you know your worth?

Are you handed a crown, or did you twist it at the shores

From your magic?

From lotus flower petals and cattails and your own crazy…

From all those tears you dropped

the river flooded

the heart paused, stopped with blood.

What was he to you,

Cat’s toy, or true love?

The sphinx rose at dawn, and lay low under the sun,

Waiting for him to slip by. She set her net

And caught him…

Lines dropped from the clouds.

Like fish they slipped through the water blind to all

But movement.

Put yourself there, and watch

The current steal your silver catch.

What was he to you, but a moment you looked

Finally into the water.

No Narcissus are you, rather wakened from blindness

To see the sun…

Hovering always, a halo of black and dark and twisted

And shining in that sun,

Yellow as white, as a night that prays for morning light,

Falling and laying and lying, and flying

Twisted as man and woman, and night

Laying down finally

Where arms are there, and softness is there,

And she can breathe.