well-meaning bullshit

now, daddy always told me

i’d go for a lot at the slave market and

he always meant it as a compliment and

i always took it as a compliment ‘cause

he didn’t know how to say,

“you’re sturdy, girl, and i love that about you.”

but one day i realized i had reason to take issue

so i took issue because some of my sisters

have mothers whose mothers

went for a lot at the slave market because

they were “sturdy girls” and

some white man loved that about them

I begin to lust for
other lips
To prove to myself I don't need him

Medicine Man

you said, "I'm so sorry I took that from you.

if only I had known you were a virgin"

boy, for so long I blamed myself for your dyslexia

you fixated your eyes, misreading the sanskrit writings on my skin

as you pressed in you waited for my moans

that came only in winces

no. I didn't come yet

no. I didn't come at all

but you asked me, "how good does it feel?"

more times than you asked, "darling, may I?"

you never called me darling, I would've liked that

but you liked that ass, making sure it felt so good

so you could feel you'd compensated me for your climax

virgin or not, a man wouldn't have touched me

my body, the sacred training-ground of his praise

not a cheap, backseat thrill, a medicine man remedy

satisfied only with offerings of blood and innocence

medicine man, you can't make penance to my body

by touching my body, that you hurt, asking me still,

"how good does it feel?" when I wanted to say,

"stop trying to earn your forgiveness,

it's already given."

you prove that the only part of you that's a man

thinks that hands can heal the open wounds you caused

I let you back in, giving you a chance to say,

"no. I cherish you." but somehow I knew

you still needed me to carry you

giving me a good time won't give back what you took

so why don't you take another look at what

you could've had, take a moment to be sad that even if

you wised up, no matter how much of me you

think you fill, you will never feel my trust again

rejected offerings

it is right to say
that my body is an altar
but it was built for praise
not for your penance
my moans are not meant
to carry away your guilt

paper airplane

when you send me your condolences on stationary
i'll unfold the creases of your sorry
& fly it back to you as a paper airplane
because I am not broken, I'm single
there is no way to rearrange the letters
in that word to spell "insufficient"
or "too much"

preferences

some

men see my skin and its pasty pigmentation

as proclamation of superiority to my sisters

whose varying shades of brown perfection

conceal passion and secret kisses that

no hands are ever worthy to discover

but to other men my skin is too pale

cause I can’t be white and a whale

but I’m not moby dick, and if your dick

has a problem with my beautiful

why don’t you stick that shit somewhere else

get your synonyms straight, boys

white does not equal better

big does not equal ugly

people say, “you can’t fault people for their preferences”

sure, but let’s ensure that preferences

don’t become prejudice

presenting perfect women with

impossible parameters

‘cause that is ugly

I am thick and proud and I am not

too full of flavor to be delicate

I’ve learned to love my ivory skin and I am not

a trophy to be won and placed on your mantle

thick

silent disdain slides from slick tongues

boys crafting insults they never needed to hurl

for i was already practiced in the

art of hating my body, always being

too much to have and to hold on

to; i searched for a knife that was good

for carving mangoes and skin

to slice the strength from my bones

carve the smooth from my curves

to be skinny like the skinny girls

seducing hungry eyes of the boys i grew up with

delicate, a flower, like my mother, my sister

but with each year my body betrayed me

my hips grew wider, my thighs more full

of earth & flesh, & i began to wonder

if God made me big so that my body

could bear my existence and

my frame contain my power

a crafted vessel of clay & pride

these hills & valleys were never made from dust

i am a mountain range covered in

stone & fire & earthquake

i am not too full of flavor to be delicate

i can always carry you

that does not mean i will

for the weight i carry must be worthy

of stone & fire & earthquake