- Landing Soft, and: Feeling Us
Landing Soft
Antique hands, hold me.I am falling like smoke rises.And I do not know parquetfloors or velvet curtains, marblecolumns. I do not know my skin.This skin of black sequins, green.I press through air, bracefor the impact. I am unableto grab hold. There is nothing.I do not know if dirt or waterwill welcome me. Antique hands,reach out and catch me.
Feeling Us
sharing Charlene Howard
We converge Friday nights,needing one another. Youtrance me in rhythmic tissue.I rock table and chair.I watch your mouthsilence all, watch my selfgive up. I give up. Thatpleases you and you givemore and take a bow. [End Page 231]
Vonsha Henderson, Ph.D., is an associate professor of English at Southern University in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.