Probably my favorite poem from any Black Arts movement writer:

As You Leave Me

Shiny record albums scattered over 

the living room floor, reflecting light 

from the lamp, sharp reflections that hurt 

my eyes as I watch you, squatting among the platters, 

 the beer foam making mustaches on your lips. 

And, too, 

the shadows on your cheeks from your long lashes 

fascinate me--almost as much as the dimples 

in your cheeks, your arms and your legs. 

You hum along with Mathis--how you love Mathis! 

with his burnished hair and quicksilver voice that dances 

among the stars and whirls through canyons 

like windblown snow, sometimes I think that Mathis 

could take you from me if you could be complete 

without me. I glance at my watch. It is now time. 

You rise, 

silently, and to the bedroom and the paint; 

on the lips red, on the eyes black, 

and I lean in the doorway and smoke, and see you 

grow old before my eyes, and smoke, why do you 

chatter while you dress? and smile when you grab 

your large leather purse? don't you know that when you leave me

 I walk to the window and watch you? and light 

a reefer as I watch you? and I die as I watch you 

disappear in the dark streets 

to whistle and smile at the johns