Desperately Seeking My Name is Not Susan
I’ve been meaning
to re-answer your ad
for love, Love.
Another way to look at it is to taste it.
Consume seven pineapples in a sitting
and wait for the acid to take your tongue.
Truth is, I’ve had too many
beers to care about meaning, too much
red wine to know the difference
between man and sliver. Hell, I’m no Madonna.
Look, all you really need
to know is if Mississippi is the opening
of a thousand drying river beds.
‘Cause the sun’s been promising
to return, and when it does
some woman in Michigan will shiver
and wait to feed you the blacks of her desperate eyes.
She is not me.
When you are gone, I will call out to a shadow
that is you. I will sing the lonesome girl’s prayer with new
lyrics. Say, I’ll be better off without you in the end.
Qiana Towns earned a MFA from Bowling Green State University, and a MA from Central Michigan University where she served as poetry editor for the online literary journal Temenos. Her work has appeared in Milk Money, and other literary journals. She is a Cave Canem fellow and Editor for Reverie: Midwest African American Literature.