Fallen Angels

( after Langston Hughes )


I’m waken’d by a po’em in my head,
Recitin’ in a rhyme of my own kin.
A rhythm that I’m dancin’ in my bed,
A black man in a coffee-flavored skin.

To see me on a slave ship below deck,
I’m waken’d by a po’em in my head.
An’ here we are a-pitchin’ till we retch,
I pray I’m only dreamin’ an’ not dead.

The ship is swallowed in a sky of red,
As if ol’ Satan’s army is a swarm.
I’m waken’d by a po’em in my head,
The cries of fallen angels in the storm.

To all the slaves each turnin’ on a wheel
As ev’ry chain an’ shackle now is shed.
A time to kill becomes a time to heal,
I’m waken’d by a po’em in my head.