"Lion's Tooth" by Niki Herd
Lion’s Tooth
I’ve spent my days counting raindrops. I’m at eleven thousand & sixty-four. I cannot rely on words but I rely on words. Like when I say baby or mamacita. Like when I say I love every version of you. I lick the right breast, that cartography of want. The next wall over, neighbors whisper. No one trusts anyone. Nearby, men have built a colossal center. It’s not for shopping. Tomorrow will be the end of this black-blue night. Tomorrow will be the end of us too. I am a colorful bouquet of necessary flowers. I am a child in a field blowing dandelion seed. The French call it lion’s tooth. Surely, there’s an open hand to catch it all—
Photo Credit: Madeline Brenner
Niki Herd is the author of two poetry collections, The Stuff of Hollywood, finalist for a Lambda Literary Award, and The Language of Shedding Skin, as well as the chapbook _____ , don’t you weep. She coedited Laura Hershey: On the Life & Work of an American Master. Herd’s poetry and essays appear in Poem-a-Day, Rabbit (Australia), Adroit, Poetry Daily, New England Review, Salon, and This Is the Honey: An Anthology of Contemporary Black Poets, among other journals and anthologies. Her work has been supported by MacDowell, Ucross, Bread Loaf, and Cave Canem. She teaches at Franklin & Marshall College.