Cakewalk through Kudzu, and: In the Spirit of Dorothy Dandridge—, and: The White Negro Girl's Diary Kathy Z. Price (bio) Cakewalk through Kudzu Kudzu rings through the broken fences. We strip thebattered white and cut our fingers on roughunstained wood. Your fingers in my mouth the dayturns the children sit at the base of a tree wherethey were buried there is a slight opening in thecracks in your fingers your eyes disappear and shinethrough the shade this is not a wisdom or poem ortruth, or even a lie there is relief in vagueness I imagine her, pulling out white ghosts out of herbody as if stitching away mist of handkerchiefwatched each man slide under her and her and her,mouths cinched up, too flazy for the kiss on top ofthe burial ground, sweating beads on the stones,owls hurl out acrid bellows, I imagine her How to define the way moon tilts elbow your heels the way you all conspire to change the heat under themonarch's wing the collusion of twin moths singed in ash on a floor lamp that too,is dance [End Page 1] In the Spirit of Dorothy Dandridge— The silence was palpable, Diahann Carroll said of DorothyDandrige who somehow always seemed to look slightly amusedExcept the day her naked body was found on the bathroom floorIn her photos, the beauty mark, the ha-ha to those who said, prettiness is white deep, that half grin on her lipsdimmed when otto preminever said, I am gonna showthe Negroponte who is master, I will make you my birchwoodwhitened and stripped till the sap runs dry, in front of everyone till Sidney went natt on fraulein's son,& crowned her with, magenta, frangipani, and marigoldsI see her up-do, large swinging earrings, the cherry-pickedbosom that looked like it bloomed out of afallen southern pecan, and today, so many stings, the gnats are not contentto mist their pinpricks with a stab here or there, nothey must lift off a quarter of flesh, to, day is not the day you carry away my naked beingI have a secret, I am getting stronger, and when gnatsaim for the iris, the wires of my eye, to blind, I move as if birthed from the clusterof butter pecan, the birchwears a half-amused smile but onlyhalf because none of you are funny so I walk through you, look out,I am channeling the best of dorothy dandridge,the beauty mark above my lips … singsha-ha [End Page 2] The White Negro Girl's Diary Fields vagrant as crows one will die pass for what, not white. dry as a psalm one will burn feed the raven to peck out your eye throw something in the grave that won't return in the middle of a sermon she suckt blood out of a cut sun drew sweat from her young girl body in her mouth a beautiful snake & screamed only living virgin in Ezra her tongue caught in your throat had tired of johns and their red eyes walked on these hot roads to come to this on her knees naked for the very first time or so she said provided what every preacher must have clear water & weeping to refrain from blood peace is it peace Go without shoes shine on a boxcar, a risen chrism, eulogize lovers who betrayed you, to find their way back to beauty, paint your lips through a night of djembes made from the bones of guitar-p lucking skeletons, midnight runs soft between our fingers, cry turmeric and brush it off the armpits crouching outside Hades stick her shadow to the front door quartered like the woman mounted on the windowless window, wishing she could run back to Deuteronomy go to bed at eleven watch the dead bury the living witness Cerberus laughing at the yogis, spiraling in downward dog, Mississippi on your back Blessed is the beating of the fallen bark, the twisted limbs of the star-leaf trees, found her in the dark, moistened his...