Muse, a Lady Cautioning

　　by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

　　 There's fairness in changing blood for septet's

　　 guardianrhythm， the horn blossoming

　　 into cadenza. No good pimp's scowl， his

　　 baby's voice ruined sweet for the duration.

　　 Yes， these predictable fifths. O， the blues

　　 is all about slinging those low tales out

　　 the back door （sing： child pried open on that

　　 stained floor）。 O， Billie hollers way down dirt

　　 roads （sing： woman on the verge of needled

　　 logic）。 She's aware--yeah， I'm going to

　　 kiss some man's sugared fist tonight. O， this

　　 tableau's muse， a Lady cautioning me：

　　 Just tough this thing out， girl. Sweat through the jones.

　　 Don't ask for nothing. Spit your last damned note