I AM What Color I AM!

My skin is cinnamon when it’s ruddy,

like hot candy framing body.

Brown bark tea stirrer stick.

and that’s this -

Pulp.

When raw rugged danger

is hair the color of umber,

and eyes

iridescent pools of burnt sienna

so faint in light.

But you call me black, still.

Death’s rotting smell and filth.

I have fresh juicy flesh

and that’s that.

Wouldn’t waste what God Gave

and that’s what.

My soul is silver silk in the sunlight.

Like Hindu-headdressed hummingbirds crowned in mid-flight.

Enlightened sleighbells reprise my singing sighs.

and that’s this -

LeMeL.

When the weight of my waist

winds the wine of my rose hips

down to the jelly of my thighs,

and lips

spill complimentary hues

of long legged curly-cues.

But you accuse me

of seducing you.

Pomegranate promises,

snake oil spells,

and Apple tunes. I

have words that masticate minds,

and that’s that.

Couldn’t cut forest family

and that’s what.