Poems by Evie Shockley
waiting on the mayflower
... “what, to the american slave, is your 4th of july ...
where you are planted
... one hundred degrees in the shade : we settle into still pools of humidity, moss- ...
— shall become as —
... the night before the full moon ...
lifeline
... puddle calls forth the child whose name, the mother ...
her tin skin
... my sculptor should have made ...
on new year’s eve
... struggle with passions for sway, the mind wends ...
pantoum: landing, 1976
... re melting: you could dance underwater and not get wet: ...
from The Lost Letters of Frederick Douglass
... What sham, what shabby love could I offer you, so ...
