2003  Lois Cranston Memorial Poetry Prize Finalist

Inquisition              by Shia Shabazz Barnett

1.

What are they doing?

My daughter, a demi Me

veiled in the midnight of her father’s skin

the quiet seriousness of his eyes

has questioned the world since

her evulsion from the womb.

Today, she gawks at a couple

thrice her age and height

lips lapping lips

heads gyrating

tongues tossing

from mouth to mouth.

The lovers whittle themselves into a bench

like loud graffiti

oblivious to my daughter

oblivious to the court of food around them

abuzz in neon

aromas that tempt the starving

as they pass dazed

like carousel figures.

The lovers devour each other over cold pizza crust and

sweating cups of super-sized soda.

It’s not polite to stare. Sweetie.

II.

They’re kissing, she finally utters.

I want to shield her from hot and heavy

while she’s still lukewarm and light

drop an ice cube in the tall glass of heat

she gulps in their spectacle.

I push forward the steaming bowl of rice

she’d pleaded for moments before

I want to lightly season her meal with mild

salt and pepper dashes

spoon feed her digestible

mother-to-daughter morsels

of honeyed birds and bees

But the couple, thrice her age and height

(no stanza break)

lips lapping lips

heads gyrating

tongues tossing

from mouth to mouth

don’t let me.

My daughter becomes marionette

her gaze, the strings

reflexive mimic of their movement.

Her eyes blink heavy, lethargic with copycat lust

her moistening mouth opens and closes

her head tilts, turns in soft, broken rhythms.

I know. Now eat.

III.

Do you ever kiss daddy like that?

Yes, I want to tell her.

We used to kiss like that all the time.

I want to tell her we kissed.

            When my daddy wasn’t looking

            When it rained

            After a fight

            Before we made love

            When we heard good news

            When we heard bad news

            When slow songs came on

            When fast songs ended

            In cars

            At movies

            But never too much in public

            Before you

            After your brother

            While you were asleep

            And your dreams kept your eyes from noticing.

            Before bills, the economy and war.

I want to tell her yes

but I don’t know how.

I was never taught

to be honest about loving.

I look at the couple

lips lapping lips

heads gyrating

tongues tossing

from mouth to mouth

love making love

and answer

Yes, I have.

Shia Shabazz Barnett