Wicked Enchantment. Wanda Coleman
the mail
or i find plasma in the streets
an occasional vampire flashes my way
but they don’t take much
my enemy is the wolf
who eats even the mind
the wolf will come for me sooner or later
i know this
the wolf makes no sexual distinctions
i am the right color
he has a fetish for black meat and
frequently hunts with his mate along side him
he follows my trail of blood
i drip blood for hours
go to the bathroom and apply bandages
i’ve bled enough
it’s my monthly bleeding of poison
getting it out of my system
watching it as it flows from the
open sore of my body into the toilet stool
making a red ring
so pretty
flushing it away—red swirls
a precious painful price i pay
my man cannot protect me
the wolf has devoured most of my friends
i watched them die horribly
saw the
raw hunks of meat skin bone
swallowed
watched as full, the wolf crept away
to sleep
2.
the wolf has a beautiful coat
it is white and shimmers in moonlight/a coat of diamonds
his jaws are power
teeth sharp as guns glisten against his red tongue
down around his feet the fur is dirty with the caked blood of my friends
i smile
i never thought it would come to this
scratching
scratching at my door
scratching to get in
howls howls howls
my children are afraid
i send them to hide in the bedroom
scratch scratch scratch
the door strains
howl howl howl
cries of my children “mama! mama! who is it?”
i am ready
—armed with my spear inherited from my father as he
from his mother (who was psychic) as she from her father
(who was a runaway slave) as he from his mother (who
married the tribal witch doctor)—me—african warrior
imprisoned inside my female form
determined
i open the door
a snarl
he lunges
the spear
against his head
he falls back
to prepare for second siege
i wait
the door will not close
i do not see the wolf
my children scream
i wait
look down
am wounded
drip blood
cannot move
or apply bandages
must wait
wolf howls and the roar of police sirens
They Came Knocking on My Door at 7 a.m.
they had a warrant out for my arrest
“what’s your name? where’s your identification”
i was half naked so they didn’t come inside,
figuring they’d caught me mid-fuck
they were right
coitus interruptus LAPD is a drag
i showed ’em alias #3
they said “oh, well where is she?”
i said, “man, she was staying here, but she
hooked up with some niggah and split”
“ok. ok.”
they left
i went back into the bedroom
you were naked and still hungry, curious
“what was that all about”
“nothing”
i laughed, took off the rag i was wearing
eased into the sheets next to you
we started fucking again
but things had changed
Sessions
doctor asked me if i had any sexual fantasies. i told him i had none
my fantasies could not be spoken. they would not be well received
and he might try to kill me
reality: him cruising by in his cadillac
me at the bus stop on my way home to hubby and the kid
he smiles and doubles back, ready as spring
i slide in next to the singer. at the motel
he plays hollywood to my watts
the doctor asked me who i loved most, my father or my mother. and i
said i loved them both the same, but differently. father understood
one side of my personality and mother, the other
reality: him slipping the ring off my pinky
unnoticed, then pretending to help me look for it
he smiles and tells me he’s ready
i slide in under him, unaware that this is
just another movie scene
doctor asked me what i thought about the face that curved along
the paper. was it male or female. i saw a woman there and said so.
he told me it could be either. i didn’t understand the significance
of that particular test
reality: me showing up on his job
the blistering anger/anguish of summer. i want
him to take me and the child away from my man
i want him to stake a claim. not ready at all
he avoids my eyes, cries about his wife and
her suicidal tendencies
the doctor asks me what i am. i say, a non