Abstract Art

By-Tiamet A. Webb

Perhaps the black woman is the definition of abstract art

She exists as more than an idea, but as the sum of atoms of her blackness now, and her blackness before

She exists in pieces ripped, beaten, ground down to ash, hollowed out, spat on—

Desired by bigots who gnash their teeth, as they seethe and recoil at the insult of her flesh, and the attention it commands

She exists as a symbol for time and place for others, but not for herself—

She has never been allowed to exist for herself

But she exists.

And she exists.

And I exist.