i didn’t expect much

except much

for an empty bus and a dissipated                  ride home

but she spoke,     no

she talked

she conversed

as she’s been for

             all of her life

and i’ll tell you right now

i have never heard such displaced

                                                                  poetry

words with rhythm

inherited through every social factor

              wrong time

                          wrong place

              wrong skin

grammar irrelevant

nuances

emphasis on on on

                                    off

                            on

dissonance some natural

no intention of art

bled into her life

the way she talks

the ways she spins

there is no broadcast

             no agent

             no pen even

            and not ever ever

                                         a blank sheet afforded her

and as she argues with her son

it turns into a duet

words feeding and bouncing off

of each other

breathing and teasing

and beating off

of each other

rolling

like some accident

the way of her life

and in his

and his

and hers and his and hers

                                        and yours

come open

come listen

come see

come be affronted with

               unavoidable

               unapologetic

               unrelenting

               art

               by the hands of a

                            beautiful

                            Creator

                            Redeemer

                                                      you make all things new