12 Shades of Brown
A Poem
I am all kinds of brown
conservatively, 12 shades at least
One, of my laminar spirit which gets
cruder as I travel
One of, three distinct languages,
which I speak — incorrectly
One of ragas heard out of
broken car stereos or
from shops run by old fools
A shade, dedicated to my
unforgivable, unthinkable
family narrative
that has painted my mind
empty
One, to the similarly
complex history
of the land I come from.
There are six other shades of brown
fighting to be understood
— even belong
To fly, at least a little
To stop, to hear a
familiar sound
These six shades morph on
my skin and hide behind
each other
I don’t think any one of them
is distinctly shame
or suppression, but they
struggle to come together
in display of any kind
of pride, — yet
The twelfth shade of brown
is uniquely mine — it is
of my obnoxious, uncultured
laughter, breaking all possible
divides we can find between
colors
~
