Yusef Komunyakaa

Potions

The old woman made mint Candy for the children Who’d bolt through her front door, Silhouettes of the great blue Heron. She sold ten-dollar potions From a half-lit kitchen. Chinese boxes Furnished with fliers

Prisoners

Usually at the helipad I see them stumble-dance Across the hot asphalt With crokersacks over their heads, Moving toward the interrogation huts, Thin-framed as box kites Of sticks & black silk Anticipating a hard

My Father's Love Letters

On Fridays he’d open a can of Jax After coming home from the mill, & ask me to write a letter to my mother Who sent postcards of desert flowers Taller than men. He