NYU Black Renaissance Noire Spring 2015 - Page 26

By PARNESHIA JONES Two Lovers and a Pot of Collard Greens There’s a simmer in my kitchen. I crave collards, corn bread, you. Savory, slow cooking, ancestor stalks mist something southern and sacred. Your kisses season my skin. A delicious brew, slow-cooks between the sheets as dusk flavors the sky with darkness. Collards steam with cayenne, ham hocks, and whole Spanish onions, dropped in a deep-sea pot. Aromas speak a readiness — curving a quiet language around the bed. A ritual dish holds our tribal food, scattered with black pepper, and voluptuous tomatoes. We feed each other collards and kisses in bed while pot liquor absorbs the last wet morsels of cornbread. 24 We surrender, sexual and satisfied. Our fingers, licked slow, tuck themselves between full bodies feasting on the night’s heat. BRN-SPRING-2015.indb 24 3/29/15 11:41 AM