there’s a house where she’d sing wearing an amber gown barefoot
Marvin Gaye from her room tv
she said
“those were the good old days.”

pouring rum into a pan of chopped garlic and bell peppers her body moved with the sensation of the spices and her fingers burned of cayenne in cuts but she kept going

she said
¨hand me the butter.”

the depth of her voice
like carved wooden spoons and sizzling oil
her hands were never shaky
even though the wrinkled corners of her eyes spoke
of late night drinks and untold visions

she’d sing
“i heard it through the grapevine.”

as if she really did
imagining the band was front and center
in her kitchen
turned into a nightclub
the swirling and stabbing of the strings direct the motion of her hips
side to side
my head would move with her body

all I could do in this moment was watch
with silent steps away from tpirit
for a life worth of golden momentshis memory
where a brown woman freed her s