SABRINA WEEKS

i am considered watered down

looking at me
darkness against more darkness
 
they asked my mother
 
Does she want a pizza?
                       Maybe a hamburger?
 
as though i was not born from
my mother's 
    
                        blood and bone
                        midnight eyes and hair
 
not a familiar enough
mirror
 
like my English skin was
 
white enough 
to offset my belonging.

 

 

my mother couldn't break him out of me

after razor glass filling my ears
after empty dinner                  plates
    ceramic               shrapnel
caught in                                 crossfire
 
cherry knees kissing the 
bathroom rug

it was time for midnight prayer
 
tiny palms clenched 
white yellow 
bone under thin paper 

please
i don’t believe in god
but if anyone can hear me
please  
help me

you would think 
violent roots 
grew violent hands
 
yet i already knew where i belonged
for i would squat amongst the tall weeds
on yellow august afternoons
 
the ladybugs danced 
across my fingertips
their little legs would tickle
and i'd begin to laugh.

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