Classic Poem

there is a large hand unfolding
above me, discreetly

it conceals a black man
surrounded by a thin tincture of green
like the moon eclipsing the sun

I am to give obeisance to him
and his firm brothers lurking in the gardenÐÐ
they strip me of my childhood casually
with the relative calm of a standard play,
the rising action, apex, and d?nouementÐÐ

in the formation of sleepwalkers
they withdraw silently into the past