To Victoria

 

as i recognized her:
ebony as a chocolate,
thick as a fierce wind, thin as the
perimeter of paper.
that is a job very gay for me.
before the sun’s open eye,
her thighs are coffee-brown,
& her hips are thick moulds
of the hues of earth.
i say to her whenever i am with her:
touching you & heaven becomes an
hyperbole like chocolates.
she undresses herself in front of me like
chocolates when they break into a sultry gaze.
there is a wilderness in my heart,
yet she complains about being lost at
the pane of a guardrail
& the loneliness of a curb cloaks her in.
do you love? i asked,
she looked at my eyes &
opened the abyss that worships
her palms,
& buried my palms into it:
she is mauled every day by the
uniformity of black boys & their tongues.
she contacted my skin
& asked do you love?
to tuck myself in silence was the best
thing to do, she is rummaging
through me —
a thick field.
she hoped she found sincerity.
but, black girl, i know you as your
skin does too.
yes, i do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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