I often find myself thinking of the abuses
you could’ve spared if I weren’t blackmaled
at birth—born a shade of brown found in seeds
that grow to be seedless fruits
that fall too far from the tree. Laughed at
for pronouncing the L in fool and hearing the R
in nigga. What a dream it would be
to have your nightmares—full of rainbows
and effervescent suns that misspell their own names.
Forgive me. For not walking as a man ought to
walk. I learned to walk long before I was a man.
I did not know that it was a dance
boys performed to please their fathers.
I learned to walk long before I knew of dancing
or fathers. All that I know was inherited
from the fairies and godmothers that raised me
in your absence, where I soaked up the glittering
sun in the vacancy of your shade.
Even in the path of your footsteps, I never walked
straight enough to be cast in your shadow.
I’ve always been magic – sprinkling fairy dust and
bewitching rings of Saturn to orbit my equator
with the switch of my hips. Every step, a praise.
A radiant song, silently sung. Vibrant as the day
is long. In this light, every part of my thighs
is an invitation to the sun. To kiss and be kissed.
To dance with the sun as only magic could. In
this light, shade finds no home.