Errand

Nothing more scary than old black men
Sitting on a porch, drinking beer, talking low
Ritually swallowing their bitterness
Always full, ready to explode

Even if one was your daddy
A silent password into the dark
You made sure to tread carefully
Measuring your words to prevent a spark

And when you spoke, you trembled
In the midst of this council of gods
Feeling the heat of their fiery eyes
While you waited for your father’s nod

You spoke just loud enough
Respectfully, and not too bold
With a message from your momma
That the food was getting cold

They all leaned back and chuckled
But you kept your eyes fixed to the ground
And your daddy dispatched you quickly
To tell momma that he’d be ‘round

©04.20.17 ebn