Wednesday Poem

with a painting by an artist unknown,

brought back by my wife from Habana,

of a woman with jug upon her shoulder –

I call her Waterwoman. She reminds me

of my mother and the women of her era,

how they would carry a bucket brim-full

on their heads from the river without

spilling one single drop of water. Such

natural grace and poise as of a gazelle;

Africa, across ocean, soft-wired in DNA;
each one a
beauty, each one a queen,
each one a beauty queen, like Oshun,

flowing, fluid, each one a waterwoman.