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Queen Bee

                                 after Kara Walker


fertility will make us
                    mothers—moans to be seeded and cropped.

we chose the dusk to run the field but clouds
of pollen glazed our skirts, made our bellies

titillate. at dawn they calculate abundance
                    by the swelling. the most suffocating

body is queen: her tits, huge wooden spoon servings
of piquant. her dark haloed nipples, a hive

a shack
                    of heirlooms—honey

when she squats low, something like the sky
about her, watch them come out

                                                she births the shadows

 
by Charleen McClure

Charleen McClure is a poet currently residing in New York City. She was born to Jamaican parents in London, England and later immigrated to Atlanta, Georgia. She received her BA in English-Literature from Agnes Scott College and is a Fulbright scholar. Her work has also appeared in Kinfolks Quarterly and African Voices.
ISSN 2157-8079
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