February 2013
Poetry
Holy Rollers at BB King’s
for Malik Izaak
by Cheryl Boyce-Taylor
I watched him build a wall
watched him build a revival tent
my son with his own breath
a bobblehead nodder
his eyes espresso with a glob of cream
did amaze me
his arms did amaze me flex and point
a black maestro the Itzhak Pearlman
he’s middle named for
and that curled trini mouth
wild almost menacing
make-some-noise-some-muther-fuckin-noise-we-in-new-york
his voice did amaze me
but it was the ones who screamed
I watched them become cartoonish and offkilter
rigid in their shins
voice thin and winey
hollow as bajan coins
I watched my son imbue them
with his hip-hop moonshine
they drunk holy rollers rising up to touch him
he my son revival preacher
his flock copper soldiers
who had just received the christ.
Malik “Phife Dawg” Izaak of A Tribe Called Quest @ Jazz Cafe March 18, 2010 London
About Cheryl Boyce-Taylor
Born in Trinidad and raised in New York City, Cheryl is the author of three collections of poetry,Raw Air, Night When Moon Follows, and Convincing the Body. Her poetry can be seen in Diane Samuel’s Lines of Sight, a permanent exhibit at Brown University. A graduate of Stonecoast MFA program,Cheryl is working on a memoir and a new collection of poetry.