From the House of Yemanjá

My mother had two faces and a frying pot   

where she cooked up her daughters

into girls

before she fixed our dinner.

My mother had two faces

and a broken pot

where she hid out a perfect daughter   

who was not me

I am the sun and moon and forever hungry   

for her eyes.

I bear two women upon my back   

one dark and rich and hidden

in the ivory hungers of the other   

mother

pale as a witch

yet steady and familiar

brings me bread and terror

in my sleep

her breasts are huge exciting anchors   

in the midnight storm.

All this has been

before

in my mother's bed

time has no sense

I have no brothers

and my sisters are cruel.

Mother I need

mother I need

mother I need your blackness now   

as the august earth needs rain.   

I am

the sun and moon and forever hungry   

the sharpened edge

where day and night shall meet

and not be

one.