Fuchsias and lavenders and spruces and teals

Fuchsias and lavenders and spruces and teals

looped around the darkest of skins

bodies in choke-holds 

as they search, desperately, for a love

to drink, to foster within 

With each lift of this pen

there is a new baby brought in

Who am I to notice this symphony

to speak on such a repetitive melody?

Who am I to try to create a bridge 

to give our song a climax

to challenge the wise ones before me?

God forbid a mud hole is stomped into my chest

or the black is slapped off of my face 

or this faggot gets put in his place 

for being so true, for having eyes—

same vast, deep brown as theirs— 

that just can’t unsee, once they’ve seen

once the numbers have been added

once the dots have began connecting 

Running around in my big white t-shirt 

jolly enough to forget to speak when spoken to 

Oh, but that was then, and this is now…

I’m sorry to get so caught up in what once was 

It seems as if I am just now recognizing what was 

Therefore, I think of it often

Pictures painted by my wandering mind quite often 

Swings on the playground in the back of their school 

pushed into the sky 

I just might fly straight into what I see 

my mother rising from the bench, looking for me 

HE FLEW INTO THE SKY!!!!!!

A bench full of sisters 

who had kids, suddenly 

We came from aching, from longing, from yearning

made from the stars, crystals in the pigment of our brown skins—deep

We came from randomness 

And so, we laugh, because no one knows 

what all of this truly is 

but to live means to have kids…

So it is what happens

It is what is happening 

You see, it feels as if my eyes aren’t just mine

Because I come from two people—lets do math—

who come from four people

who come from eight

who come from sixteen 

Sixteen crystals, diamonds

wrapped in fuchsias and lavenders and spruces and teals