Read an Excerpt
final note to clark
by Lucille Clifton
they had it wrong,
the old comics.
you are only clark kent after all. oh,
mild mannered mister,
why did i think you could fix it?
how you must have wondered to see me taking chances,
dancing on the edge of words,
pointing out the bad guys,
dreaming your x-ray vision could see the beauty in me.
what did i expect? what did i hope for? we are who we are,
two faithful readers,
not wonder woman and not superman.
new note to clark kent
after Lucille Clifton
by Frank X Walker
even you are not hero enough to lift half this country out from under so much ignorance
not with fake news and alternate truths tweeted around the planet daily tongue-tying the daily planet.
you can beat batman, bare-handed, but because dark money be bigger
you powerless against the kryptonite of rich man and hate
Man
and if orange man was a comic character, if lex luthor had comb over hair he would be elected president and DC would immediately repeal marvel
while you and an army, all white, all male, all privileged fall out of the sky on sunday talk shows insisting the sky isnʼt falling
Superman’s Girlfriend Lois Lane No. 106
for Clif, using words from the comic book
by Ashley M. Jones
on this daily planet, my life is good luck, all supermen at my service—I should get the pulitzer prize on the backs of metropolis’ black community / wait / tenements perplex me—how can I break through this plague, their suspicious speech, these slick-mouthed babies and their knock-slam slang // homeless ghosts on this daily planet, what is the reason for their weary report / look how the sun shines sweet and pretty on their rat-infested slums // it’s okay, I’m right / I’m whitey, never forget // Little Africa is dejected, a neighborhood of frustration / I’ll step into this machine and transform, a startling switch / Black for a day only / the hum zoom of the world staring / the smoke of white fragility / its gloomy firetrap // Black is beautiful / have you met it before, reporter / the eternal struggle of life against death by darkness / a life of please, look me straight in the eye / the constant confrontation of being Black and alive in a white man’s world / a universal outsider // so alien, even Superman couldn’t risk loving you//
Dear Superman
by Cynthia Manick
Tell yourself what you will that you wait patiently to tip your Clark hat and jaw to every Sara, Lois, or bright haired Jane. Women with coiffed hair, pink lips, and cosmetics lightly placed. Delicate shades that blush so nicely on paper,
TV and high resolution film.
But I see how the animal of your body passes by the dark girls. Girls with names like Esther, Jaleesa, or Cantina
Rose. Girls who wear glasses and dresses with the slip showing.
Women of strong flavors—
hot peppers between their legs and a storm inside. Those girls secretly stir you from liver to toenail.
And they too crave strong arms—a cape to cradle inside, and have dreams of sleeping between stars.