Nikky Finney Poems

Condoleezza rises at four,
stepping on the treadmill.

Her long fingers brace the two slim handles
...

We were a Colored Clan of Kinfolk
Who threw soil not salt
Over our shoulders
...

(for E)

I stop my hand midair.

If I touch her there everything about me will be true.
The New World discovered without pick or ax.
...

I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, there's not enough
troops in the army to force the southern people to break
down segregation and accept the Negro [pronounced Nigra]
...

The woman with cheerleading legs
has been left for dead. She hot paces a roof,
...

Sundown, the day nearly eaten away,

the Boxcar Willies peep. Their
inside-eyes push black and plump
...

Just a plain brown paper sack boy
from a place and people
who sweet fed him everything in double doses
...