Muse, a Lady Cautioning

  by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

   There's fairness in changing blood for septet's

   guardian rhythm, 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



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