Sassafrass (standing still): Just one god-damned minute, Mitch. You gotta mother you supposedly love so much, and a daughter by a black woman who won’t see you . . . and you got me all messed up, and tryin’ to make you happy . . . god damn it, I don’t haveta listen to this shit. I am not interested in your sick, sick, weakly rhapsodies about all the women you fucked in all your damn lives . . . I don’t like it. I am not about to sit heah and listen to a bunch of no account niggahs talk about black women; me and my sisters; like we was the same bought and sold at slave auction . . . breeding heifers the white man created ’cause y’all was fascinated by some god damn beads he brought you on the continent . . . muthafuckahs. Yeah, that’s right; muthafuckahs, don’t you ever sit in my house and ask me to celebrate my inherited right to be raped. Goddamn muthafuckahs. Don’t you know about anythin’ besides taking women off, or is that really all you good for?

(Mitch looks at Sassafrass like she was a harlot. He puts his horn away and remains silent. Otis and Howard chuckle nervously, and get ready to split)

Otis: Look now Sassafrass, I’m sorry you took it the wrong way . . .

(He smiles. All three men leave the house. On the way out, Howard pokes his head back through the bagging-screen door)

Howard: I don’t care what you say, Sassafrass . . . I know you got good pussy!

(They all laugh jauntily on the way to the ’59 Chevy 2-door sedan. Sassafrass stands still in front of the barber’s chair for an indefinite time)

When she moved, she went to her looms . . .

makin cloth, bein a woman & longin

to be of the earth

a rooted blues

some ripe berries

happenin inside

spirits

walkin in a dirt road

toes dusted & free

faces movin windy

brisk like

dawn round

gingham windows &

opened eyes

reelin to days

ready-made

nature’s image

i’m rejoicin

with a throat deep

shout & slow

like a river

gatherin

space