A Grandson in Hoticeberg

A grandson is
not
the wing-sprouting cherub
that I, as doting grandmother
have persisted in seeing and showing.

A  grandson is a
                hot
                  ice
                      berg.
that cannot retain or disdain,
with all the half submerged knowing grinnings,
lusty leering and.or jeerings
that the name implies.

And as an added distraction or attraction
(according to ones politics)
this grandson is a
                          BLACK
                                hot
                                  ice
                                      berg,
with bushy head hung down
and lengthy legs sprawled up
over the easiest-to-dirty chair.

And stubby fingernails thrown out in
"V" for victory
and grubby fists thrust to the polluted air
in cries of
"POWER TO THE PEOPLE...FIGHT"
and King Kong combs rearing up out of his
"this is an AFRO...MAN" hair.
And orangegreengoldblue
SHIKIS
and ebony with ivory eyed
TIKIS
and rather than the
"Yes mam, grandmother"
that he had been taught;
a jolting of "aints...wonts"
and other igniting Black language revolts.
and defyings of
                "RIGHT ON
                          MOTHERS
                                MOTHER
                DYNAMITE..."