Pepper
We call things what they are.
Pepper is not
dark speck dust
ash after wildfire.
Pepper is not
subtle pop of spice
freckling flank.
Pepper is not
black afterthought
say when
to
stop.
At our house, Pepper lives
green, red, dried blood brown bubbling
out of glass bottles top the stove.
Pepper courses through
pulse in every pot
our tongues know: hot, deep, full.
Pepper is born of
land, roots, vine raised fruit flourishing
in familial hands.
Pepper is undeclared
tenderly tucked in checked bags
on transatlantic flights.
We name things for where they come from.
About the Creator
Jasmine Marie Respess
Jasmine Respess is a Florida native who writes about the intersections of her Black, Southern and Caribbean identities. She earned an MFA in Poetry at The New School, and is an Editor/Research Analyst at Mango Publishing in Miami, FL.
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