Tuesday 15 January 2013

air miles

i have travelled
6,373 miles to return to
me. 
with each mile i am unfolding
discarding petals of a dewy, fleshy
pink. 
with each breath another
falls away to reveal
my blackness -
rounded, smoothed glistening.
new to each of you who only
knew the passivity of my youth
which wrapped what you could not understand
in pink roses.

barbie always wore pink. 

with each mile 'i' am blooming,
breathing,
beating new life into the 
hidden selves that lay buried somewhere
deep within towers of ivory
and all the ways you wanted me
to be. 
don't be surprised, that i emerge fucking angry
doused in kerosene and rage, 
i dare you to strike your match first. 

i didn't know what else to be
no one taught me what black even means - and so i grew fearful 
of myself.
your lessons spread like venom, causing me to default. 
wait - apparently it's actually my fault, you said i read the signs wrong. 
 forgive me, i must have been looking in all the wrong places - but six feet tall advertisements 
adorning sky scrapers, really do catch your eye
and they don't flash faces of my own mahogany design.
except for maybe, beyonce.

beyonce sure does wear a lot of pink. like barbie did.

in case you were curious, 
it may only take you 6,373 miles.
this is the distance of a journey inward
through the wormhole of my soul
where i deleted from memory, every line i was fed.
and all the things that i read wrong.
all of this, to introduce myself to me.
hello. see?  i am black, i am beauty.

and i hate pink. 


Wednesday 9 January 2013

we didn't even say goodbye

alone. alone.
(alone?)
there is only silence,all around you
that cannot be drowned out by rooms of vinyl.
and the aching of your hand - you will have to fill it with other things
(a pen perhaps? wine and whiskey)
alone. (alone?)
there is no whisper of the beloved
there is a bed, with that annoying cold part
where your body cannot warm (i can't be all places at once !)
no glancing up across tables
no dancing in kitchens
no beauty from the shared mundane -
don't you know the simplest chore becomes fodder for joy
in the company of  an 'other'.
(but, there is no 'other')
alone. (alone)