by Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks
Today I learned the coora flower
grows high in the mountains of Itty-go-luba Bésa.
Now I am coming home.
This, at least, is Real, and what I know.
It was restful, learning nothing necessary.
School is tiny vacation. At least you can sleep.
At least you can think of love or feeling your boy friends against you
(which is not free from grief.)
But now its Real Business.
I am Coming Home.
My mother will be screaming in an almost dirty dress.
The crack is gone. So a Man will be in the house.
I must watch myself.
I must not dare to sleep.
Last updated September 17, 2015