scrambled legs

and run

from the

second wave

in the rubble

of twisted beam

bodies lie on top

and spirits rise

to see a new world

wives forced to

put on working boots

five cent in wage

while children's' fingers

are used

as tools

grungy

and

dirty

after the war

is done

they all

will have a hand in it

not wanting to give it back

women grew power

got masculine over night

held offices to

kept cobwebs out

but after the chores are done

negro leagues

would play

shadow ball

bloodied

undefeated

baseball from the soul

by Shaela Montague-Phillips

at night

the moon becomes liquid

dreams subsiding north

brightly shinning

close to our bed

while we entwine

red sequence in-between

the sheets

spasms say, "yes"

no, to the due of dawn

half curled finger tips

wave welcomes to secret pleasures

we dance to the bending of the stars

a hula dancers' nightmare

stuck between the galaxy

we do the voodoo

carving small white doves

saluting our love

to tell our story

at night

we pull out

red checkered blankets

swallowed by the night

wrap whispers' wind

while eating juju bees

laughing at soft sounds

that inspires our lovemaking

moving south to the border

juicy fruit smack sandwiched in the lips

our erotic exotic interpretations

of karma sutra

delectable while sitting on the porch

passions that hang a spittle on cupid's beard

by Shaela Montague-Phillips

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