Twelfth Floor Inscription Shango


I am Shango exhaler of lightning
Eagle makes his nest in my voice
I seize your two hands without sun
Your judge's hands that waste the days
And red blood of my people
Slowly I pass them across
The flaming alcohol of my breath
Slowly I burn away their thorns
And now the moment for arranging
The bellies of each of the females of your house
I take two halves of a Jacmel orange
And fill them with palma-christi oil
Shouthing three times: I am Shango
The pure sky keeps no secrets from my eyes
The touch of me brings good fortune and light
I warm the oil with the high truth
At the lighted wick of my man heart
White Alabama girls prostrate yourselves
At the feet of my innocence
And remove all your garments
I plunge a hand in the hot oil
And very slowly rub your cursed breasts
Rub the rebellious ivory of your limbs
Which little by little emerge from the shadows
And one by one I rub your rapturous bodies
Now you are forever as pure as my eyes
Now you are ready to carry in your wombs
All the bursting life of humanity's morning!