Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
The House on Wentworth Avenue
In this moment
a sweetness.
Mama sleeping on the sofa. Near
eighty-nine.
The Black judge
judging
on TV.
I have begun
to say good-bye
to this house,
this apartment,
upper rooms,
we ran through
like streetcar
lines
making noise,
leaving our midnight
warring roomers
behind.
Written by Angela Jackson
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