It seems that my body speaks before I do.
Tells the room I am proud and aloof
Before I have been allowed to enter.
Warns of aggression and sex
In my dark and the curve of my spine,
Of simplicity and calculated cruelty.
Announces that I am ready to be consumed,
Like a corpse flirting with grinning vultures.
And maybe my body is loud because
My existence has never belonged to me.
It is in the hands of those who grab my hair,
And force me onto their hot mouths,
So enthralled by the black girl walking.
Sometimes I dream of being invisible,
Of being given the grace of weakness.
But it seems that my body is screaming,
And isn’t it such a blessing to be heard?
s.o.
