solid, but soft within

structured but flexible enough

to be bent or guided in 

new directions

there they were

all perfectly connected to each other:

banana stems soldered at the hip

like a can-can chorus line 

(with fruit to offer instead of a kick)

my thoughts turned to josephine

a class act

dark-skinned and french

color didn't matter

success didn't matter

she knew these things were only lent

she used her money to build 

thatched huts on her estate

and replicate the tribe that 

felt more real than any home

money could by or fabricate

one hand dangling free in the air

signaled hips to shake off the hits

we all took down the line

and break a curse so bizarre

and amorphous

that it cannot be defined

she invited us all to be 

banana dancers

and sing a french lullaby

of forgiveness and reconciliation

with no reparations 

and no crimes to be redeemed

we're all a plush, ripe fruit

bursting at the seems