NYU Black Renaissance Noire NYU Black Renaissance Noire Volume 16.2: Fall 2016 - Page 119

poetry
By Thomas Northrup
Witches Brew for Miles Davis and Elena
music invades the room that exhales fire , the room that breathes with us — the succulents , cactuses , bonsai all breathe a pace with us
i sense your love power and resent your ghost . at least we dance . but do we dance against each other when our innate interests align so that we reinvent ; trolling after distinct identities ? can we please combine cultured magics and write united ?
… can i write past my teeth static ?
i exhale , sit , and the candles hiss . their light attacks the mirrors and bounces . i twist around with the light and the sounds of this powerful jazz enchanter , who makes the roomspace ‘ bound for miles we witches brew : sizzle change burble bust and cum . we sillersather ‘ cause we can . incense fumigating roses ’ cloy curls and clusters at feather-lined ceiling where elephants stomp , their hung forms drape past vines and plant tendrils , who too call the ceiling home .
posters fly the walls with paper crane identity proclamations manifesting latency . the walls ooze sound while paint chip possibilities frown at unmarked wall sections bleeding through that first time i saw you in black i recognized Serafina Pekala a witch indeed
… the pharaohs dance on … sweat lathers me . it ’ s hot here the flames . my breath . your ghost . it ’ s hot . i ’ m not angry though , just constrained by my vernacular my flow constrained by appropriate fear . from whom can i borrow ?
i stand , and my feet press the wood . trumpet breeches as i dangle my arm ’ s bones and muscles over the zebra chair damn animals roam this room !
116