petals of shine
Woman
sun soaked
no blonde hairs
what do you speak? I ask
the present tense. She replies
Girl
I feel what you feel
when the island sun turns to city grit
Nothing shines here
cloud soaked
neediness for shiny things to blind us
Swelling under concrete
shuffling and the press of bodies
I mumble in my magnificently unknown words
in the midst of the crowd
if we must go to extremes
give me maximum illumination
Blind me with your sun
sweet sugar, brown woman
shed my layers with your exfoliating ways
How can I measure how I love you?
the way you exude your shine
how the metal of the city reflects on me
this is the color of my dreams