Pumpkin Pie

Orange heart splattered on the floor
pained from cinnamon dreams
nutmeg promises
sugar kisses
believes her autumn beauty is crushed in her fall.

Chef knowingly inhales her scent
adds the life-sustaining milk words she’s been missing
scoops her up
gently spreads her on a golden foundation
heats her 360 degrees with passion
cools her with integrity and good intention

shows her the beauty in the breakdown.

©2009 La Shaun phoenix Moore

NaPoWriMo #21 - Corned Beef (A Draft/A Memory)

NaPoWriMo #21 Corned Beef (A Draft/A Memory)

I have adorned myself in loathing contempt
gift wrapped in self hatred and disgust
for miles of moments.

The most vivid of those memories
was age 20 at a church concert:

Jesus was nailed to the cross and uncompassionate
while Earth’s own angelic gospel chorale
flew charts, notes, song arrangements and insults around each other
before taking center stage to amaze all the little sinners of the world.

House lights prepared to dim and audience members
shuffled rudely past seasoned parishioners
as the choir prepared a humble prayer back stage.

At the prayer’s conclusion,
“Amens” are tossed around like raw chicken in batter
and well wishing commences.

The choir director,
a fly young Pentecostal playboy,
smiles openly at his perfectly poised paradise performers
praising them for hair, makeup, and wardrobe well coordinated
and then beams light sabers in my direction

“Even La Shaun looks good.”

Rowdy laughter foxtrots around the prayer circle.

I slowly bowed my head
ashamed
to utter another prayer to the God
that would let His “chosen”
offer me,
the fatted calf,
as the sacrifice of praise before worship service.


I’ve salted the wounds of that memory,

of backhand compliments like

pretty for a
thick girl/a chocolate girl/a smart girl/a doesn’t always follow the rules girl/a land on her feet girl/a girl I’m fucking/a girl I’m fucking over/a not my wife girl/a not my girl girl

as a preservation technique.

My beefy flesh pickled in a seasoned brine,
cured
from ever accepting the freshness
of the raw beauty trapped within.

©2009 La Shaun phoenix Moore

Poems 2 and 3/30 NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo#2 Lunch Time (remixed)

Lunch Time (remixed)

I sit three tables across from her,

glance at her face nonchalantly
and bite into a bland tuna melt.

Lunch time.

Same routine, different day.


My co-workers and I file monotonously to the cafeteria.
pretending that we honestly enjoy eating lunch together;

pretending that it is a team builder
through which we can all learn “fun” personal facts about each other.

Pretending that I am not the only black girl in our group.



I pretend that I actually want tuna melts instead of southern fried chicken.

I deny that what I really want is a little freedom from my daily lunch companions.


I stare at the dark sista across from me.

Her eyes meet mine hesitantly.

We send silent smoke signals to each other, mentally writing fogged breath messages on glasses of Diet Coke.

They read: “Save me from Corporate Ameri-KKK.”

I force a smile in her direction.

We both understand that the phone bill, gas bill, and rent payments are the true masters
rendering our pleas for help are useless.


I look away from the sista angrily, as if she somehow caused my unease,

Stare almost lovingly into the ocean colored eyes of my supervisor.

There is no way off of this plantation.


The sista/stranger and I breathe out a synchronized sigh and stare attentively at our respective lunch buddies

wishing for a wealthy, Southern-fried chicken freedom from the daily grind.

©2009 Draft 3 La Shaun phoenix Moore




NaPoWriMo #3 Haiku Suite: Untitled

There are not enough syllables
to sum up the way you make me feel.

17 short breathes
are stolen every time your mouth
starts kissing mine.

17 heartbeats
skip rock across my rivers
at your heated touch.

17 bad memories
are healed instantly
in your balm of love.

These haiku are not at all expansive enough
to summarize you.

Keep shining love in me, Baby.
Burn the pain.
Make me sunlight in bloom.

© 2009 La Shaun phoenix Moore

NaPoWriMo #1 Haiku

30 Poems in 30 Days for National Poetry/Writing Month (April)

A day late, but perhaps I'll get the second haiku out in time.


Interracial - for Anthony.

My skin
against
your skin
against
their thoughts
against
all odds

making love.

©2009 La Shaun phoenix Moore