like daydreams in season parks
where the children don't start or cry
hurriedly, but gently do they interrupt
quiet fuck making.
I am the mother--
I've ever sought, to be.
Holding you close,
so as to preclude you
from lost. To verify absent
what should not be.
If exclusive to stop
you near to me.
Hold on tight, fervidly
with every your might,
hold on course fuck of mine.
Become the Negro you are
suppose to be. Love me,
with tears in your eyes
let our whist defect close
and the female in you ordered free!
Free to permit go; its instance you become home.
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