Dominique
Free Verse — It’s Complicated: Lit Up & The Writing Cooperative Contest
I had never seen a black person
before I fell in love with Dominique
on the first day, and I fell hard.
Tiny rainbow-colored bands held her cornrows in place
I didn’t have a single English word to give her,
Just admiration.
By picture day morning, while I summoned the courage to tell her,
we lined up in little rows
gingerly, I planted myself beside Dominique
and having gleaned valuable translation intel from my immigrant father
I leaned in close,
the soap fragrant from last night’s bathtime
And as the photographer’s flash burst with harsh white light,
I cupped my hand to her perfect left ear and whispered,
“You are my bride.”
Her parents framed it upon the mantle, never mentioned
her nonplussed expression in the shot, eyes wide, a smile forming
but Dominique didn’t like to look at it much.
The weird immigrant kid fucked up her first grade photo.
