Poetry by Terrance Tucker

He was laid out in a designer Jean set
And Timberlands
I took slow steps to his casket
People passed me like energetic runners
Racing to view his young corpse
Shani took my hand
We floated like characters in a Spike Lee movie
I stared into his coffin
He looked different, heavier, pale,
And peaceful
Usually he’s happy and animated or irritated
And intoxicated
Filled with pills and wasted potential
Afraid, I lightly touched his hand
Like death was contagious
That day, I watched hope evaporate
Like Holy Water in Hell
Paper thin prayers passed between sinners
Boys and girls who masqueraded as men and women
Hung their heavy heads and sobbed
While sermons entered and exited ears
We sat in the back pews blind
The sun eased into the church illuminating Prophets
We failed to follow
Isa looked at me, his eyes redder
Than the blood of Jesus–he said
“I’ll never forget this–
His funeral on my birthday
That was Isa’s 19th birthday
His last birthday
People gathered, performed, and prayed
For him months later

Now I can’t forget

At Night
By Terrance Tucker

At night we hung beneath
fluorescent lights;
shining like slum jewelry,
drinking Thunderbird, trying to fly.

At night when dreams collided
with reality, we popped pain pills
to sleep through poverty
and some never woke up.

At night morals are bartered
and sex is traded.
When ice boxes are empty,
and access cards don’t swipe.

At night eyes glow,
people change, and fangs show.
Agendas are enforced by
the howl of gunshots that highlight
corners like conflict diamonds.

At night brown faces surround yellow
caution tape, and
red and blue lights ricochet
off worn white walls.

At night after souls vanish,
teddy bears and candles cover
blood stained concrete.

At night my knees, palms,
feet, and face touch
the floor, as I pray
to see another day.

Beautiful 
By Terrance Tucker

When she walk, I watch,
and I wonder if
she wore books
on her head.
Her strides accurate,
each foot placed
perfectly in front
of the other.
Her tight hips
sway, seductively
clothes cling
to her uncovered
curves.
Eyes widen, necks
roll, and scour her
petite frame.
Captivated by the
bounce of her breast,
the rhythm in
her thighs, and
the beat of
her backside.

When she stop, I stare,
and I wonder if
her skin is
soft. She’s dark,
shiny and smooth,
like uncut coffee.
Her complexion rich,
like her personality.
No blemishes.
I think of Folgers.
She keeps me on my toes:
EXCITED!

When she talk, I listen,
and I wonder if
her moans are
sweet.
Her teeth gleam
like sugar, enhancing
my urge, my addiction.
Her tongue ring,
alluring, hypnotized.
I lust.
Her glossed lips
move as foul
unfiltered words
spill bitter jaw-
tightening truths.
Hard to swallow,
yet needed to
keep you woke.

When she touch me, I rise,
and I wonder if
her shot is
strong and steamy –
that up-all-night
motivating kick,
or is it
cold, detached, lazy,
ineffective like chow-
hall coffee that
reminds me of tea?

When she’s not around, I worry,
and I wonder if
my love, my
faith, my insecurities,
will be the
cream that dilutes
her flavor.
Her kick weakened,
her affect calming.
Her tongue ring-less,
my lust annulled.
She becomes concentrated,
feeble like cappuccino;
fancy and filtered.
Disappointed?
I wonder…

Sound of Love
By Terrance Tucker

I remember the sound of love,
as I squint to see
the brightness
of your pupil.
Piercing touch
that dilutes, and
deceives ordinary vision.
I remember the sound of love,
as my jaw tightens
and bitterness beats down
on my drums, enticing
all ill-notions.
I remember the sound of love,
as eyelashes lengthen
the distance, and
time serenades, softly
caressing the jagged-
edges of my taste buds.
I remember the sound of love,
as liquor sobers my drunk
heart that hangs over
my throbbing head, and
broken fences fail to
whiten my life.
I remember the sound of love,
as leaves fall, littering space
where nowhere begins and
hope is disparaged.
I remember the sound of love,
as lies lay beneath ever-
green trees, and alternative
facts dance and dangle,

like puppets lynching decorum.

Restricted Housing Unit
By Terrance Tucker