Poetry by Zyen Mingo-Smoot

Poetry by Zyen Mingo-Smoot

Zyen Mingo-Smoot is an African-American and Afro-Indigenous poet from Varnado, Louisiana. Her primary themes are tackled through the contemporary southern gothic where she gathers the 20th century genre to examine modern-day socialization, landscape, and culture of the Deep South.

Winn-Dixie

Something like Mardi Gras,

but everyone’s in there for supper

and no one would admit their

liquor intake over their lifetime

 

to anyone around them,

maybe the cashier, but even then,

Winn-Dixie don’t let them type

in.

 

In fact, there’s a lot of sugahs

and honey to women of the same

age—a lot of sweetness about the women,

but neither would look the other

 

in the eye, like, Winn-Dixie don’t

let them type in and

the market has

 

what everyone in there is

looking for and is expecting,

and all the women still have husbands

to still get home before

 

if not someone else to care for

a mother, a son, someone else’s

child and if A-Miss

is not feeding her rounds

 

then what the hell else is she doing?

Winn-Dixie,

she don’t let

them type

in

 

brushing past each other

flustered, wondrous

careful like a fresh pot of tea

 

and I said, what else

is she doing?

 

a book to read: market newspaper, The Bible

a book to read and Winn-Dixie the next day

 

and I mean, what else

can she do?

 

might, maybe

will, possibly, she,

don’t know, what she

got

 

Weezy F. Baby and the “F” is

 

For each and everyone of yal

wr tied to th same umbilical cord

 

Baby,

you a legend

and they know yr words

like th first taste of

 

Baby,

milk, baby running before

walking, baby, swinging before

huggin’, baby, hustlin’ for lovin

 

And you are what they are and

that mean alotta things

red hat or dreadlocks

and that meant alotta things

 

“I don’t give a fuk”

but I do know how to want

it here. it everywhere. i want it

like the casket exposure,

 

Beloved baby, i want

left alone in this mess k

now you gone have fun

if anything, you know

 

Some mess and fun

and music always been

there to reason with everything

seen a bullet run through

 

Skin, bone,

you seen it run through you,

water running, fields burning,

they seen you cool and dry

they seen you ginger ale

 

And crown royal stepping heavy

and wild and weird, they seen the stars

and break through the dark to dream

they express themselves like yr pair of shades

and dust, smoke