by Kira-Lynae
already has this body been fleshed in brown glory
so my bones do not yearn to be swathed in the ugly of your misogyny
and these breasts were not sculpted to milk your dry tongue that is so wrought with life’s lies
rather
they protrude as testament to the strength living in my chest
and these legs
these legs that color giraffes in jealousy shall forever strut to rhythms that welcome them
for they prove sluggish when trailing 100 feet behind your azure kaftan and erect fist
my Black Womanness is majesty
I am the night as its sweetest hour
I am the sun when it is ripe with bold hues of yellow
I am the faint whistle of the wind kissing your ear
like you I am majesty Brotha
can’t you see?
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