Cigna
you gotta throw some cocoa butter between
them toes
protect the liver
drink some water as if what’s coming out my faucet a’int what
got my guts in a bind
twisted and turning over itself
like my fingers tryna find recipes in the bible
for keeping the scent of ocean water
out my hair so they can’t find me
but my body
something in the spleen, the tendons and joints
that keep my muscles hugged up with the rest of my insides
muscles that a’int caused me nothing but trouble
when my thighs too ancestral
you can map swamp land to floor boards
to crawl space and Georgia again
in the cellulite
stretchmarks and fat,
fat,
fat
who said fat and black
but white and invasive
surgical instruments
to remove the fat, the genitals
the foot
who said Black body first
only reason Black body is academic
because they still want to
cut into us to find what they can not
no Silk Road
no conquistador
no cop city
no plank
no hull
no body but our body
so epsom salt on Thursdays
and pray on your knees every morning
to give those feet a break
open sores
open caskets
56 plots for 56 years
26 years left
i am 30 now and niggas
only die young because maroon meat don’t taste the same
it’s too tough to chew
too defiant
they say let it rot in the sun
but we return home to it
give my lungs back to the river basin
so I can sing with whoever kept they body
long enough so my brain can be imagined
Black body
my body
body Dysmorphia
body Dysphoria
blood Pressure
high
hypertension
fibrosis
cholesterol
Black
infant
ribs
spine
maternal
mortality
fingernails
Black
crohn’s
Black body
Black body
Black sick
calves
intestines
and I hope I keep you long enough
to taste salt water again
Ruth
for Auntie Ruth and the others
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go
New York bound from the sleepy, Carolina magnolia’s that spare petals like angel wings when you need to make a decision
where to land
by and by
Ruth
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go
Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a puddle that hoards your reflection
Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a sidewalk that covers your shadow
and can’t none of us say the same
Ruth
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go
and why were you there
and who did you know
and on the phone, somebody told ma ma that poor Ruth had died
but nobody told ma ma where poor Ruth was buried
and who buried her
and who and what and where and when and how and who and what and where and when and how and who and what and where and when and
Ruth
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, there are no pictures of your laughter
There are no sonnets of your birth
There are no death records of your favorite song
and did you have one or was it taken too,
was it buried with you or can someone still remember your jitterbug and how your belly slithered when you found your sexy in a bar somewhere in Harlem that isn’t there but might have been or was never there but gives me hope that you might have been
and the questions about the questions about missing Black girls
in the black hole that look like an oceans trench from the mountain top
Ruth
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, where did you go
Born in Honea Path, South Carolina
but where she died, nobody knows
Ruth
Baby Ruth
Sweet Ruth, where did go
Somebody tell me how you can be born
but your name dissolve like footprints beneath the snow
Click here to read Donnie Moreland on the origin of the poems.
Image by Steve Johnson on pexels.com, licensed under CC 2.0.
- Two Poems: Cigna and Ruth - March 18, 2025