Don't Ask
my popo says don’t ask popo says
a man she thought was Jesus told her the meaning of life
at the bus stop shelter wall busted
nubby bits of glass all around
he punch-marked her ticket and said
god surely loves you too
what did he mean popo? she said, don’t you know by now baby
she said, your sort — my sort our sort
we don’t ask they don’t tell
you just know and he told me
god surely loves me too
what he meant was what she thought he meant was
all the no good men the no good luck
the nobody ever done right by her life
the mis-car-bortion he never told-a-bout
but he knew the poor baby
eyes all open fresh bloom
she was married at sixteen it was the war
they sent the girls little girls little women
to homes in town away away
kept away from the jungle fighters
the ones left behind breast legs wide open
don’t ask and they won’t tell
she was sent away
she said, last lucky thing to ever happen to her
from between her legs spilling fresh blooms
what to do with all the blooms
do she do with all these red red blooms
don’t ask they won’t tell
stanch the children stanch all the children
a girl a girl a girl a boy a girl
a pig a horse a donkey a prince an ox
my mama says don’t ask mama says
a man she thought was Jesus told her the meaning of life
at the bus stop shelter walls busted
twisted metal all around
he scanned the barcode on her ticket and said
god surely loves you too
what did he mean mama? she said, don’t you know by now baby
she said, your sort — my sort our sort
we don’t ask they don’t tell
we just get on with it and he told me
god surely loves me too
us chew the table scraps cause our jaws tougher kind
us don’t go past high school kind
us send money to send our brothers to college kind
did you know god was an architect?
mama wanted to be an architect too
make forests — skyscrapers but not women’s bodies’
breast legs wide open designed for what?
we don’t ask they don’t tell
our sort gets on with it and
god surely loves us too
i became the kind of architect mama said to be
i say — i don’t ask — i say when is it my turn?
they say oooooooh
so you’re god’s gift to the industry now
but all i was asking for was what
the boy the boy the boy the boy already had
don’t ask mama says don’t ask popo says
they’re poaching eggs in the lunch-room
turning tea into roses
they say don’t get too big for your britches now
they say you get called up when they want you now
they say don’t you know by now baby
we don’t ask they don’t tell
now go back to the end of the line
