Bleaching Cream Blues

 

mika1early in the morning
before the world puts on
its face she stands
in front of the mirror
pinching this poking that
pulling on the other
she turns slowly
counting the ways in which she
is not enough too much
too round here too flat there
too black everywhere
too nappy haired
even weaved
spanked
with contacts
she can still see the black
smell the history
of chicken scented poverty
the years of shoes from the sale barn
clothes at a discount
men all no account
no bank or credit accounts
she takes inventory
the tally always short
like the chances of the babies
she had to abort to have a chance
still last picked to dance
not promoted
not selected
still rejected
early each morning she
measures her self
against the girls in commercials
as she has her coffee
she devours the billboards
from the window of the bus
she inhales the scent
of opulence from magazine fold outs
on the way to the job
nobody wants invisible miserable
trapped in a life she hates the texture of
wanting to reshape
review undo tweak truly newallnew speak
this thing she is into one of them
that floats and wins
she wants in
on dreams of white fences
2.5 children who live to go to college
she wants the sitcom life
double down bullet proof
pta red carpet time to walk
walk- a- thons for lofty causes
she could care about if she
was whole and not wanting
everything all things anything
that felt like comfort
security
beauty
she eats from the dollar store
saving to sculpt her ass
up the alphabet of her breast
today they had bleaching cream
she picked up 3 tubes
hoping they get her closer to
erasing the smell of fried chicken

image credit:

(http://www.vissastudios.com/gallery/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/mika1.jpg)

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in Black Arts, Poetry, spokenword and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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