Found Object

We are slowly studying the brilliant Book of American Negro Poetry. It pays forward by making a tradition that we know in hindsight exists, but that at the time needed to be called out, conjured. Rising in our hindsight this morning is Georgia Douglas Johnson, whose apparitoin has less writing on it than we wish.

In the mean time:

"I Want to Die While You Love Me" is the blues.

I want to die while you love me,
While you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me,
And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent
To warm me when I'm dead.

I want to die while you love me
Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give!

I want to die while you love me
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day
Grow dim and cease to be.