He’s no longer a man
No, demoted to a sack of blood and marrow shards
Wrapped in sinew.
Dangling like post-celebration piñatas.
His plasma, dripping jelly-like from the center of this pastry.
“Nigger had it coming; he gandered at that white woman down the way…”
Our first kiss was a drunken maelstrom of emotion and disbelief;
A dry hump manifesto.
Hadn’t felt this liberated while in someone’s grasp in a long time.
The next morning,
After the toothpaste cleansed and the mouthwash rinsed,
A statement escaped my pearly whites;
“You know, 70 years ago I would have been lynched for this”
Her dead panned response,
“In a small town in Mississippi, you still would.”
I love her. She Loves
Me. It should be that simple,
So why isn’t it?