American Sonnet (35) (Wanda Coleman)

I read my first poem by Wanda Coleman the other day and liked it, so I thought I would try another. This one is another American Sonnet.

I like that you can easily get a sense of America out of the words - the jazz, the boogy, the cars, the blackness. Maybe it's set in more modern times, but I see the poem taking place in the 60s or 70s.

The beginning of the poem reminded me of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. A black woman moving like a ghost through society. How wonderful, that in the end, the woman of the poem has more corporeal complaints - her outrageous hair, her sagging skin. And yet, the last word of the poem, the last word, perhaps, for the woman in all versions of herself, is her blackness.  It would seem to be as intrinsic to her as the America-ness of the poem - unavoidable and defining.

Favorite line: "this umpteenth time she returns--this invisible woman"