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The Deuce of Cups

the black would-be poet told me a story
about his cup in the middle of a forest of cups
and how there was a golden cup
it was the cup
and how he found it
and had known that it was not brass
as were the others
and i knew he spoke of another woman
the woman who was half-black and half-ceylonese
who wove spices and spells into tapestries of love
she was his gold flesh beauty with hip-length silken brown
hair. he told me about her as he talked, reached for my
thigh, kneaded my soft darkness and told me i was a
bronze cup in his forest of cups
and cupped my breasts and
his hands worked the bronze, fired it
found it strong yet yielding
he told me gold was much better
but he had lost her
had abused/misused and she had been taken by another
man and so he was content to have bronze
to fill the cup with cum

Written by Wanda Coleman


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