Conjurewoman

Her locks are a swarm of black comets streaming
through ionized air. But her eyes are center

of the universe - twin suns blazing so brown
as to make brown iridescent. She makes the alien

races envious. Her skin, a brown hymn. When
God made the line of her smile, Heaven broke

in two. Each eyelash, a chord bending in Muddy
Waters' hands; each blink, a blues

song; each sidelong look, a jook joint
concert. Her hips, an upright bass I want to strum

long & slow with my bow, and I do
mean deeply. Her walk, a wicked bassline only

the devil could play. Each areola, a voodoo
spell I want to chant. Her curvatures

would make geometricians jealous. If hourglasses
could walk, she would leave me

with no past. Which is to say:
I ain't ever seen

another Woman.