Venus’s – flytraps
I am five,
. Wading out into the deep
.. Sunny grass,
Unmindful of snakes
. & yellow jackets, out
.. To the yellow flowers
Quivering in sluggish heat.
. Don’t mess with me
.. ‘Cause I have my Lone Ranger
Six-shooter. I can hurt
. You with questions
.. Like silver bullets.
The tall flowers in my dreams are
. Big as the First State Bank,
. & they eat all the people
Except the ones I love.
. They have women’s names,
.. With mouths like where
Babies come from. I am five.
. I’ll dance for you
.. If you close your eyes. No
Peeping through your fingers.
. I don’t supposed to be
.. This close to the tracks.
One afternoon I saw
. What a train did to a cow.
.. Sometimes I stand so close
I can see the eyes
. Of men hiding in boxcars.
.. Sometimes they wave
& holler for me to get back. I laugh
. When trains make the dogs
.. Howl. Their ears hurt.
I also know bees
. Can’t live without flowers.
.. I wonder why Daddy
Calls Mama Honey.
. All the bees in the world
.. Live in little white houses
Except the ones in these flowers.
. All sticky and sweet inside.
.. I wonder what death tastes like.
Sometimes I toss the butterflies
. Back into the air.
.. I wish I knew why
The music in my head
. Makes me scared.
.. But I know things
I don’t supposed to know
. I could start walking
.. & never stop.
These yellow flowers
. Go on forever.
.. Almost to Detroit.
Almost to the sea.
. My Mama says I’m a mistake.
.. That I made her a bad girl.
My playhouse is underneath
. Our house, & I hear people
.. Telling each other secrets.
by Yusef Komunyakaa
from New American Poets of the ’90s
David R. Godine Publishers, 1991
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