How many books of poetry have been called “Bicycles?”
How many poems have you read with the title “Bicycle?”
Nikki Giovanni wrote the poem and the others in the collection. In both, the bicycle is not merely a metaphor for life. Rather, it’s an expression of how she lived her life: in love, not only with her wife Virginia Fowler or with everything that’s beautiful, but with being. She was who she was and, like love itself, nobody could take it away from her.
Therein lies the power of so many of her poems, essays and children’s books. She was not just another writer with a facility for language and a sense of imagery. Rather, her works exude her authenticity and warmth. Having met her once, I can attest to the latter.
When I say she was in love, I do not mean that she was content with everything as it is or was: Much of her early writing was inspired by her involvement with the Civil Rights movement. Rather, she knew that it would take more than anger to change anything. If anything, she understood that real change would involve embracing the élan vital, even if she never used that term.
So why am I talking about Nikki Giovanni in the past tense? Well, two weeks ago, her ride, if you will, of 81 years ended two weeks ago. I read about her passing the following day, but I waited to write about her in the hope that in the right moment, I could do something resembling justice for her. I don’t believe I have with this post. So, I’ll do what I believe to be the next-best thing, at least in the context of this blog, and share the poem that’s the subject of my second question.
Bicycles
Midnight poems are bicycles
Taking us on safer journeys
Than
jets
Quicker journeys
Than walking
But never as beautiful
A
journey
As my back
Touching you under the quilt
Midnight
poems
Sing a sweet song
Saying everything
Is all
right
Everything
Is
Here for us
I reach out
To catch the
laughter
The dog thinks
I need a kiss
Bicycles move
With
the flow
Of the earth
Like a cloud
So quiet
In the October
sky
Like licking ice cream
From a cone
Like knowing you
Will
always
Be there
All day long I wait
For the sunset
The
first star
The moon rise
I move
To a
midnight
Poem
Called
You
Propping
Against
The
dangers
