you,
taught me how to hide my curls
in a cloak of shame.
told me I should cry every time my eyes
landed on the details carved into my brown face.
constantly reminded me I wasn’t in close enough proximity.

“You have nice eyes, but it’s a shame you’re dark.”

“You have beautiful hair, sad that you’re dark.”

“How lucky you are! No pimples or scars, what a shame that you’re you look dark, though.”

My reflection swallows round my eyes like twisted hair beads and pink oil

while the mirror leaks a frightening truth

that I go mad to.

I hold the wishing in my fingers

drenched in castor, tea tree, and peppermint

my scalp only blooms red

I will never call a Latino “papi”

sino héroe, soldado, sobreviviente

Brother in bondage, sibling in survival

The chains of the Hispanic clink with those of his Black cellmate

We languish under the same white gall

I am from

the expressions of my people

flattened nose and slits for eyes

leathery skin and cricks in my back

each feature of mine

a reflection of my family heritage

They say he could see a full mile on the horizon.

They say that he could smell the seas from the plain.

I’ve heard he could dance to the rhythm of a heartbeat,

And visualize true beauty in the rain.

This here is real.

There are no stories

about happy homes and whole hearts

where we come from.

No fancy cars.

We got no big houses but big dreams.

This is crack fiends at midnight,

babies crying, sleeping on wooden floors.

When racial slurs are used against you

When people leave you out because of your skin color

When people look at you because of your skin

When you know you’re different

When someone spits at you because of your skin

my hair bleeds purple when i sleep

dark, violet, translucent in the way that sausage fat boiling on the pan is

before it touches a towel

in the way that a ghost’s imprint is before fingerprints are left on the kitchen counter