she stands so dispassionately,
yet she commands attention
like a traffic light. red, yellow,
green; three shades of truths
that waver depending on you.
he passes by her, he covets
the way she dips her shoulders
under the weight of rain. she
dances with her eyelashes,
she flutters and kicks, she spins
with purpose, she spins with passion
that rivals the way the clouds
wave goodbye to the moon.
she is a warrior, a beam of solid
light as we mist pass like
traffic. cars speed by,
pedestrians sputter and trip,
chat and spit, they all buzz
like bees, buzzing in the smarmy
heat between the sacs of swollen pollen.
they feed and feed, they feast and they
feast as she stands by and ponders.
they fatten and glutton
as tears dribble from her eyes like
dollops of honey. spilling from a
silverspoon, why does no one
reach out and wipe away the sweet water
from her lips?
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 