For Bella with Love to Jean Nate, and Janelle By Gayle Bell Image by Shaquille Dunbar c/o nappy.co I have tiptoed on the periphery of your lives Steel butterfly Lace and lash nail and scent no safe place to hide. I was 15 and a runaway young, dumb working this hole in the wall Selling my wares Jean Nate was a flame Drag woman. Red hair, crimson dress, fingers and toes of iridium Smelling of Chanel#5 and powder. Motioning a finger her way In a gravel and whiskey voice she said Now hon, watch yoself, someones been robbing girls and shooin she waved me away a trick vying for her attention. Outside the club, attention riveted to the moon The glint of a 22. The hard stare of a man with little to lose. We walked to the path, the only sound was my blood in too big a hurry to decorate the sidewalk. hey! leave er alone muth-fucka I didn't ask where the bullet went, Torn knees and hose, mascara running, wig askew. Girl! didn I tell you, just blest get yo ass off these streets! Bella We met at the Deep Ellum Poetry Fest You hot pants (black leather!) in the shade, fishnets & stilettos your signature look. Poetry that would make Lovecraft quake You stretched full height, your butterfly metallic colors pure as your soul. Someone said you died in a car crash; your colors melting in the blaze. The full circle dusty days of my education. what a Drag my beautiful Peacock what a Drag!
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August 2019
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