The Sacred Art of Giving Dap

#The Sacred Art of Giving Dap

 I see you, sister  

    gliding secretively among the profane  

    you and I, we   

    skim the surface like waterstriders   

    avoiding predators    

    via divine gift of water tension.   

    Hungry, solitary,  

    the bullies and the bromides.   

   

 I know you, mother   

    as I know my own handprint.  

    A knowing look   

    exchanged - currency.  

    We say,   

    “Hey, I love your shoes!”   

    But we mean,  

    “You're doing fine; no one knows.”  

   

 I ordain you, daughter   

    a ministress of truth and beauty   

    anointed with the   

    blood of my own generation  

    spilt in hate   

    once a month, like menses.   

    I sometimes   

    wonder whether we were stillborn.  

   

Feedback:1 | 2

• This Is How I Brush My Hair   

• Queen of Scots   

• [imagine the deep] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4gbu5b/imagine_the_deep/)

• [And Then She Did It Anyway] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4g4gyh/and_then_she_did_it_anyway/)

• How To Hold a Woman.

• The Traveller     

• Last Light     

• Stars (through the whiskey-grey     

• Oil     

• 3 Word-Sonnets     

• Every 29 Hours     

• Excerpts From A Voicemail      

• On Mortality, December 1980       

• Chambers Street     

• On Regret      

• The Man of Châlons     

• Beast    

• Silence Is.      

• The Day I Caught The Sun      

• Nearly Zero