My hips bear the bodies of men
who will bear witness to an age where
melanin and murder may be synonymous.
Mainstream media begs to crawl into my womb
in an attempt to be birthed from my struggle
but they are no children of mine.
Blackness is not my favourite dress,
you don’t get to borrow it when you want to look cute
It doesn’t fit you
and no it’s not because my ass is too fat
but because my shoulders have borne the weight of a history
no book has had the spine to hold
ebony wings robbed of feathers in gales titled ‘hate fuelled’ and ‘race related’
and when those faceless men finally tear my clothes from me
I will shame them with the nakedness of my shoulder blades
Coloured girl fluent in the oppressors tongue,
If you are ever unsure where to stand
stand on the side without the guns