“oh antic God return to me my mother in her thirties leaned across the front porch the huge pillow of her breasts pressing against the rail summoning me in for bed. I am almost the dead woman’s age times two.… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
wishes for sons by Lucille Clifton i wish them cramps. i wish them a strange town and the last tampon. I wish them no 7-11. i wish them one week early and wearing a white skirt. i wish them one week late. later i wish them hot flashes and clots like you wouldn't believe. let the flashes come when they… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share
“these hips are big hips. they need space to move around in. they don't fit into little petty places.” — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
I keep hearing tree talk water words and i keep knowing what they mean. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
In the bigger scheme of things the universe is not asking us to do something, the universe is asking us to be something. And… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
If i should enter the house and speak with my own voice, at last, about its awful furnitutre, pulling apart the covering over the dusty bodies; the randy father, the husband holding ice in his hand like a blessing, the mother bleeding into herself and the small imploding girl, i say if i should walk into that web, who will… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share
To be a good poet, you must care more about the writing, than the writer. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
