1

Holy water
soaked in rouge

Sweet is her name.


2

The congregation,

the people

believe revelations, or
some sort of salvation
drips hard and rugged
from her voice

stretched out
in the meat of her hands, her life
for all to eat.


3

Black runs
from her strut like mascara,
pours from her
thighs for the mother
God barely made her.


4

Shug shimmy is
tucked away pain

some little girl spirit
tugging at her hips;

Women like her
carry that pain everywhere
for everyone to see & feel.

Then she smile.


5

Red.

In juke joint shadows.

Red.

In a church aisle. Red
in a sea of plum daisies,

Shug a burnt orange
horizon where all souls meet

in the hug of her arms
or legs,

a riverboat girl,
in a goldenrod dress, teal shoes
guides a mess of sinners home

somehow.


6

Shug arrival is blowing fields
of purple, wind remembering its howl,
a bell recognizing its ting.

She the melodious clap pattern
little black girls
plait to the scalps
of their memories.