Bewildered strands of bruised and uprooted nappy curls beside a mind that told tales of untold worlds.
And the guilty hesitant unnecessarily undressed eyes of the monster the world knew stared dilated black.
Clay flesh lay tired and mercilessly worn beside his white bones our God has wrapped ebony.
Pouring out life like bittersweet distasteful wine through outraged lips spilling with a racing tongue exploring edges of teeth he’d never discovered.
And he spun yarn and told the white men the tales of untold worlds till they took his desire to bat at women who held floral skirts up too high.
They slit the soul and watched it bleed until nothing was left but white bones our god has wrapped ebony.
Lay in peace the watchmen shirked. Lay in peace the fat whore’s speaked. Lay in peace the white men spat. And here he belonged and to a lonely tree crawling beside the dandelions he sat.