Mulatto Sermon

There’s a window from which my ruination looks out—myself thin as a bird’s tongue. Trash can, I am the one being thrown out day after day. Bed, I blame you for many mysteries. In dreams, mother spins herself black in a closet. Great carpenter, I cannot live like this. I want to move, but first tell me where the basement is so that I can get my wedding dress. I want to stop my husband fading in, fading out. That reminds me of my skin. Skin covering my house like oil covers the ruined bird.  end