granny smith apples never tasted sweet to me. tart. dangerous. i bite down; the crisp crack rubbing against my teeth. eve never deserved a death wish. lilith planted a garden of strength and adam ripped out every flower in haste. seas were saltier when lilith birthed millions of screams and swallowed a million deaths. mourning doves lead some to [p]aradise and others to dismay. black kings and brown daughters, yellow sons and white wails, felled by trembling sails and hurried anchors. the oceans raged, the history books christened tragedy by other names,
but still, the apple never strayed from its branches.
seeds planted. feet, feet so heavy from chains, never stopped dancing. never stopped singing, never stopped flourishing. beauty so inspiring, so powerful, so ancient, that they cringe whenever we succeed, when we beat them at their own amusements. technology was born on the backs of slaves. egyptian deserts and black queens, never forget that the sun strips away lies and that’s when true melanin gleams. in conclusion, white flesh being ripped apart by brown teeth. granny smith apples, never truly tasted sweet to me.
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 