Splintered Thoughts by Robalū Gibsun
The stars are tangled in the nappiness of night. My alarm clock combs my mind out of its nap. The earth gives birth to the sun and still I can’t unmask my dark or smash that stereotypical skeleton. Ribs, be a fence of uncaged seduction. Lips, speak against my enraged induction into the Hall of severed balls and voices as silent as starlight: The humble hue man was labeled black and wild demasculinized before his woman’s eyes to teach her and the child to never trust or confide in a man who resides in a vulnerable state of mind. Now my love is internally out-lawed and out-lined by gunpowder and noose ties. Now I wander barefoot in rooms of yesterday pestering its wooden planks dragging my fettered feet Hoping my flesh will snag up a splinter from a lynching tree Hoping the pain will convince my ancestral memories to open the lost books of history. Camouflaged in deceit, 67
Amendment 2013.indd 67
9/10/13 8:36 PM
