Free Chasing Utopia by Nikki Giovanni Page A

I
    In cowardly concern
    Turned away
    There was
    On a cold snowy night
    Coming across the West Virginia Turnpike
    A rabbit which tried to cross
    Four lanes of traffic
    The head was hit
    But hadn’t yet told the legs
    So they kept running
    And I from fatigue
    And helplessness drove
    On
    Slavery was not fun
    The holocaust happened
    People are not good
    And yet we go on
    Until we stop
    And I think
    The only bravery available
    To us
    Is to Remember
    Smell—
    As we all know—
    Is half the taste

TO THE LION WHO DISCOVERED A DEER IN HIS HABITAT:
GIVE HIM KETCHUP!
    Because who was knocking on my door
    After midnight
    I know it wasn’t you
    â€™Cause you said:
    This is it. I am out of here. I don’t want to hear it anymore
    And I said:
    Well go. You think I care?
    Ergo I know it wasn’t you
    Needing my arms
    Or my kisses
    Not to mention my roast beef
    So who was knocking at that hour
    Last night night before
    24 robbers at my door
    I got up let them in
    Hit them in the head
    With a rolling pin
    All hid?
    And the lion pounced
    Because it was such a treat
    The chance to butcher his own meat
    Not that the zoo butcher didn’t cut a fine roast
    But hell
    He could for the first time in his life
    Do it himself
    Remember when you were learning to walk
    And your mom would hold your hand
    Remember when you started dressing yourself
    And your big sister laughed at your stripes and plaids
    Well that lion didn’t have anyone to answer to now
    But himself
    Imagine his pride when he carted dinner home
    That night
    Imagine the good good love they would make
    While she crooned what a lion he is
    And then the zookeeper came and said:
    Deer is not good for you
    Yes, dear, she said, I am
    Pass the ketchup, Mr. Zookeeper
    You or the antelope?
    Fresher Meat, Better Tasting
    Papa John

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POETRY
    Poetry is as necessary
    To life
    As salt is to stew
    As garlic is to pasta
    As perfume is to summer nights
    As shaving lotion is to mornings
    As your smile is to
    My happiness
    Poetry is as significant
    To life
    As yeast is to bread
    As butter is to toast
    As grapes are to wine
    As sugar is to lemons
    How else will we get
    Lemonade
    Poetry is to me
    Your voice
    Your touch
    Your laughter
    That feeling at the end of day
    That I am
    Not alone

NOTE TO THE SOUTH: YOU LOST
    The buzz of the flies
    Almost was a lullaby
    Rocking the dead
    To a restful place
    You couldn’t hear the ants
    Though they were
    Clearly there
    In the eyes the mouths
    Any wound or soft
    Tissue
    The worms had come
    Understanding those
    Which were not
    Trampled
    Would have a great
    Feast
    The grasses had no
    Choice but to drink
    Down the blood
    And bits of flesh
    That were ground
    Into them
    In the future
    It would be girls
    Not field rats
    Who would follow
    The soldiers
    Into the trenches
    In the future there
    Would be single
    Engine airplanes
    Dropping bombs
    And then
    In the scientific imagination
    Of the 21st century
    There would be men
    And women
    Pushing buttons
    Making war clean
    And distant
    But today
    On This battlefield
    The deadliest of This war
    The Songbirds had been
    Frightened off
    The Turkey Buzzards retreated to watch
    Deer Skunk Raccoons
    Possum Groundhogs gathered
    To let the smoke clear
    And only the moans
    Of the almost dead
    And the quiet march of Lice
    Gave cadence to this concert of sacrifice
    For
    Freedom

THE GOLDEN SHOVEL POEM
    they eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair —From “The Bean Eaters” by Gwendolyn Brooks
    At the Evening of Life
    I wonder if they
    See the evening of life as a treat to eat
    Or as a staple like beans
    With corn bread mostly
    A good warming meal this
    Daily day old
    Bread pudding love capped sunshine yellow
    By an honest upstanding pair

MORGANTOWN, WVA
    (Haiku for Ethel and Lucy)
    Pinto Beans Fried Corn Bread
    Clean Spring Water Rocking Chair
    Your Smile Home Peace

FOR SONIA SANCHEZ
    In the name of those incredibly Brave men and women
    who made the Trek from Freedom in Africa to