VOCES NEGRAS
50
On Resilience Aanika Pfister 2020 stuck his ugly looking foot out Thinking he could trip me up. He couldn’t. My black girl sequin high tops Have a history of leaping Off kitchen counters, cop cars, oak boats My legs accelerate through air Like roots busting through white sidewalk I’ve got old bandaids hanging from my knees From centuries back Scraped and straight up broken Butterfly barrettes My brown eyes have been floor-bound Looking for cracks and Dodging shined shoes Since the 50s I’ve survived with my face to the concrete Weathered bombings and Blue shadows baton-banging at the front door Dog teeth and water hoses and spit I’ve seen myself as nothing but gum Become something I’ve learned to walk without my shoes being tied To jump blind and land like a cat Black.
INVIERNO 2021
July, 2020
