Butterflies all behind my teeth

taking the marrow all out of this brokeness

He is young again trying the find the fundementals in his father funeral

and I homocide over all these melocoly like memories 

temptaion has a tendency to make even the strongest ingnorant and be new again

realizing that you dont belong and being okay with it

with men with boys with you

and your breath sounds ike four years of yesterdays 

the terror from your bones from your step from your insides 

sister I will sit here and the spirit of emptiness sits on her soul like air in lungs and we called her crazy

These people have forgotten what it feels like to call on God

I can't go on knowing these sisters are broken God

she must not know her body is holy templed holy touched holy hollowed

Did you not know your feet are beautiful when you carry the gospel

you must not know what it feels like to be colored and know that your body is as beautiful as this war building up inside her womb

You must not know what it feels like to be colored and unmoved

so I sit here

with your voice a broken pigment 

hands so full of intellegence 

you excpect me to watch my novice loose her mind and her babies

and not say anything

everytime this time of the year rolls n he wants to act all delioriously commical

like he must not know what she feels like

what it feels like to carry something 

what it feels like to be colored and hurt and not man enough to tell somebody

not man enough to comfront this terror and tell it that we are the kind of people that demons fear

but he is not man enough, so I will articulate for him today

his eyes so black so big, they meant something to me

and God only knows it makes me uncomfortable 

and when I found out of the hells that I come from, the secrets I found my mother clothed in its sweetest flame

here, we let the back door close by itself and pray that the cat don't find its way back in

my mind feasts on the bodies of the men who do this with my Emak

and were too busy dwellng on what coud have beens and what we haves and what we wants 

Aunt Jemima dont you get tired

with your apron wrapped swiftly against your broad hips having the blackness dumped out of you

how does it feel to watch her let him leave

with all these adoloscents all up her walls 

watching my sister loose her mind and her babies and her man

unable to do anything

forgetting what it feels like to call on God

forgettng what it feels like to be colored and wounded and weeping 

I am going to work against these wars with bruises

and everytime my sister loosees something or he wants to leave this time of year rolls in

with all their dirty laundry 

and three years ago this time of year

trying to find the fundementals in their sons funeral

and reminding yourself not to question God of his workings 

or your skin, or your body