love photos of
black bodies
dancing across screens
taken with stolen apertures

it’s a silly game me and the plane
play
back n forth
my skin not yet shiny enough
not yet translucent
theirs blasting with luminosity

wanna kiss the boy in that
picture
tell him he’s okay
don’t need to be no shiny dancer
but then again
who’s gonna kiss the little girl in
me
and tell her she’s alright
i’m scared they will drown her
in tales of african hymnals
from the mouth of an ivory individual
or maybe of lessons learned
through the guise of a
forgetful father or
intentional deceiver
either way lessons
engraved in the pretty
skull all the way