for naana;in times of trouble, you lived.on bended kneesI pray all nightbefore the Garden,like Jesus’s pleafor you, to see not to forget a father’s facemy tongue spits your namebirth with the psalms of a longing songin quartet, balladsI listen to Coltraneplay your name, Nancy (with the laughing face)I have wailed and triedlet God hold youtill then…my daughter
-nii norton
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