BLACK ON MY SKIN DREAM (A VISUAL POEM)
Grandma says the next morning, kissing my forehead,
handing me pancakes You are beautiful in the moments
nobody notices like a butterfly laughing with the crickets
on a drop of salt water straight from god’s tears. I heard
the snores turn to yelling, screaming, crying the apes
are judging me and I don’t feel woman.
Give anything for my hair to grow and flow straight.
Sick of being called Medusa with the snakes and stone stare.
My grand baby, howling all night, get off me snakes I am no ape.
Get those eyes off of me. I am no stone cold killer.
Can’t you see I’d give anything to be different, to be a rainbow,
to be that white woman who flips her hair in the sun to get a key to her freedom.
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