Rigid Wings

Inspired by Clifton Henri, “WINGS,” 1999.

1.

Those wings that Black girl had

spread from the waters of the Atlantic ocean

to the flowing waves of the Nile river.

FLY ON BLACK GIRL! FLY ON!

Don’t let the apparitions of the past Pickaninies, Aunt Jemimas,

Jigaboos, Porch Monkies, Coons, Tar Babies, Spooks, Boogies,

or the shackles of Jungle Bunnies prevent your arms

from spreading freely past the tips of the pyramids of Giza.

STAND TALL BLACK GIRL! STAND TALL!

Don’t let the spit from the Sambo sayer’s lips bleach your skin;

or lye your hair, limbless, or dye your eyes blinding blue.

You’re too perfect to be discolored and led astray.

You’re the best reflection I had since Nefertiti peered into the waters,

and I reflected her reflection.

Let them look at your braided, beaded scalp, and

ivory colored gown, and chocolate drenched skin.

Let them know what you’re looking at is a

forced field, against the phantoms of Spearchuckers.

Let them know your reflection ain’t for sale.

2.

I wonder, what do you see looking at that mirror?

Do you see a Queen? Is she drenched in gold beads,

and holding a diamond-encrusted spear? Do you see

a Goddess? Do her eyes mimic flames? Is she laced

in gold? Are her lips whimpering? Do tears fall

from her eyes? Is she using her arms to fly? Is her dress

dancing with the wind? Do you see your mother? Is she

strong? Do you see darkness? Is it your skin? Did you

mistake it for sin? Do you see love? Is it tampered with?

Do you see the road ahead? Will it be hard? Do you see

yourself? If not, do you see beauty?

3.

I have wings.

I have black wings.

I have wings stretching from here to there.

I have wings entangled in afro-textured hair.

I have wings made of bones, and wings made of skin.

I have wings that let me fly, and wings to let me live.

I have wings, melaninated wings, brown and bold.

I have wings attached to my shoulder bone.

I have wings that feel like a new leather chair.

I have wings fried in oil, and wings baked and shared.

I have strong wings, and I have strong black wings.

I have wings that no one can touch.

I have wings braided — some lace fronts.

I have wings with gold hoops, and wings that’s loud.

I have wings covered in cherry lip gloss,

and wings that’s proud.

I have wings shaped like afro-picks,

and wings made of shea butter.

I have wings tied in bobos and wings braided into bobs.

I have wings to take me from yea to HELL YEA;

and wings to take me away from being scared.

I have wings to explore, and wings to cry.

I have wings to wipe my tears when one of my wings dies.