As a youth though, young lady womangirl 

swimming scholar if you will I am well 

versed in good and evil. Evil and righteous. 

A moral code weathered by unending 

interogatottory glances and sermons until 

I’m paranoid like Julia Roberts trusting Mel 

Gibson and Nia Long with letters to 

WillSmith but actually rabbits do live in 

holes and horses have almost as big a dick 

as whales so there’s a sliver of an opening 

in my heavy heart but it does appear overly 

– er dogmatic by another world or word so 

Revolution is on a young one’s horizon and 

uprising in her bloodline but sincerely 

though creation in between and that part is 

very nearly limitless. Black hair honey skin 

that turns cinnamon in summer but never 

eyebrows like Britney Spears or a figure 

like Shakira so honestly what’s the point as 

I’m black-not black Greek never white 

lightskin Irish hybrid Albanian mutt of a 

rebel Abby doll or Sojourner’s improper 

grammar definitely though W like Houston 

with no awareness of Bobby Brown or 

Efstathia Natsis but a feeling, persistent as 

the wind that is never truly gone so I write 

and read and lay hands to prevent cuffs 

and shed tears to prevent guns but every 

day is a century until suddenly I am no 

longer me I am I which means definition so 

yeah, shout outs to Black Star even though 

in Brooklyn I always listen to Mighty 

Sparrow not Nas but my uncle laughs at 

Hilary Duff so I re cover my eardrums to 

the Mighty Mos and crew although I am 

strictly not allowed to go into the Bronx to 

see Andy for safety reasons and in truth 

Lenox Church Utica and Linden are mostly 

where I stay but still no one looks like I do 

which is cool in a sort of way but in the 

formation of adolescent growth devastating 

in another although in Barbados it doesn’t 

matter and I feel so alive and awake that 

New England feels like prison most 

especially as my mom and I don’t have the 

time space energy to hike Mohawk Trail 

anymore but like my blood, without fail, 

the memories return to flow and even 

when they leave me bedridden and wet 

eyed and feeling more dead than alive I am 

alive still and Wendy sewed Peter’s shadow 

to his shoe and I learned how white girls 

learn to fly and how Tiger Lilly survives so, 

like Destiny’s child or Rambo I survive and 

emerge and then sigh. Live, or die?

MadameChoCho 🦋 the butterfly 

[moon of red 🍒]


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