Leslie McGriff (Leslie Dianne) is a poet, novelist, screenwriter, playwright and performer whose work has been acclaimed internationally in places such as the Harrogate Fringe Festival in Great Britain, The International Arts Festival in Tuscany, Italy and at La Mama, ETC in New York City. Her stage plays have been produced in NYC at The American Theater of Actors, The Raw Space, The Puerto Rican Traveling Theater and The Lamb’s Theater. Her screenplay, Strivers Row, was chosen as a finalist in the Urban World Screenwriting Competition. She holds a BA in French Literature and is currently working on a collection of poetry.
I Try To Separate
I try to separate
the faces of the
families, friends
and strangers
pressed against
each other
outside the station
trying to enter
I cannot distinguish
one pair of black
eyes from the other
I cannot tell
the shape of one head
from the one next to it
I cannot tell
the gnarled leg of
the rickshaw driver
from the twisted hand
of the field worker
I have trouble
seeing which bare feet
go with which
bony knee
I move through all of you
brownskinned and foreign
I am visiting your planet
like a meteor crashing
lost in the swarm
of cardboard suitcases,
toddlers, thick heels
shuffling in cheap flip flops
no way
to know where
to go until an eager teenage boy
guessing at my language
sits by my side
and says hello
and an entire
train station moves close
to hear my destination
and help me
on my way
tomorrow Shanghai
another train station
and another hello boy
October
It would happen in October
the fortune teller said
when the leaves
lose themselves
and pretend to be
something else
gather their rust and brown
into clumps of defiance
to fight the cold
they believe that their green
will not survive
they believe that they must
change their color
in order to bend
with the wind
the frost
the snow
the too harsh rain
but it is not true
that they have to fight
they can ease into the
next season
release their hold
on the branch like
the fortune teller
said I would
release my hold on
you, let go and
begin the dark
beginning that
would guide
me to the truth
There is more me
without
you
On a Sicilian Beach in Milazzo
On this rocky beach
a thousand pebbles
washed white by the waves
are stamped with the memories
of distant soldiers marching
pressing their weight
into the earth after having
whipped the sea
they are ghosts
here beside us
Al Kalbi’s sons
marching on this
beach of Bal’harm
their Moorish sweat
travels in the mist
that conceals the shapes
of dozens of African ships
you offer your brown jacket
and on this spot
where you insist
we stop
and kiss
history watches us
fall in love