My 'Native' tongue

You tell the class
that my brother and I
speak in our
Native Tounge at home

You make it seem
as if there is a hidden languge
my race hide inside our homes
our streets

The way you make it out
Blackness is a secret club
and to join
you must know the code

But let me explain something,
When I speak to my family
I speak with the same education,
with the same **** accent
and cadence than I do with my white brothers

I am not putting up any act of being more than I am
just because I'm with you white folk,
Except maybe when I talk to white folk like you
because then I have my child friendly gloves on
because there must be something
really ****** stupid with you that you would say to
my face that I am putting on an act when talking to my 'betters'

Lady, you aren't any better than I am
If anything you seem a little stupid in the head
Because to let yourself think you know anything
about the life of an African American woman -

When you grew up in a rich *** neighborhood
and have never had to deal with people treating you as
a lesser race because of the colour of your skin-

Woman I had no idea people could be that out of touch with the world around them.

You say I speak to my daddy with a certain lilt in my tone
because I can but away the act I'm playing day by day
because i has to be an act, doesn't it?
I can't just be an woman with dark skin who cares
about the world she lives in,
who wants to learn all she can to help those around her,

That act has to come with a costume that I hang up at the end of the night
makeup that gets smeared off and run down the drain

You say I speak to me mama at home with
shortened sentences,
accents and s's where they shouldn't be
In a loud voice that the white folks down the street can hear

But let me tell you one thing,

My mama is white, *****

He’s not like the others,
he’s not even a wholly likable child.

I mean, he has the cute face
high squeaky voice
chipmunk cheeks.

It’s his personality,
his attitude,
it’s the fact that he’s only 7 years old
and already hates the majority of what he’s seen of this wide world.

It’s the fact that he manipulates everyone’s words
until he’s made the collage that meets his ideal visage.

He’s more than a handful.
He’s even more than a whole village’s armful.

And though I know a part of its’ the diagnosis
it’s hard to keep that in mind
all the time.

(It’s hard to forgive an unlikable child)

Even harder as he swings insults your way,

as you have to take off running after him for the nth time this week.

It’s hard keeping a straight face,
keeping the unflappable demeanor
through every offense.

It’s hard not to scream,
curse,
cry,
  to remain the calm island in the face of the raging tempest.

But you have to.
(Even though he’s not the most likable child)

He is still a child.

And you’re loving compassion is stronger than his self destruction.

You tell me I should y'all
Text y'all
In those dark moments

But the **** am I supposed to say?
That I can't call you
Because
I am terrified of the condescending tone you use
That you think I can't hear
But will stay with me far longer
Than the attack?

And sometimes I feel I can just sense the judgement coming up cc you
as you look at my life
And don't see the pretty *** how on it

Should I call you back
After ye feelings have passed
To tell you how *******
bad I feel interrupting your
Previously scheduled program
For my break down?

Should I call you just during the major ones?
Or the mini ones that hot during the day
Should I add you on speed dial
For the six or seven times I'll call?

Should we make a schedule
Like the nurses do-
Who's on call
For the M train emergency tonight?

Should I tell you that 30% of the time at my therapist
Is spent deconstructing
Your reactions
To my actions?

No?
Cool.
Let's carry on as per usual then.

In another life
I am some bodies lover

Not wife, not girlfriend
Lover
The one he crawls to in the middle of the night
The one you hide away
The one you hold when you're  to tired to deal with all the baggage at he
And I am okay with this

Our stories intersect one day as I was walking in the fog
In an outfit 'sluttier' than I had anticipated
He's out there on the road
Trying to escape his same old home
And he sees me
He recognizes me

The same can't be said for me
I've always been bad with faces and places

But you see me
And walk up to me
As I'm walking to a cafe on the street

We'll return pleasantries
And then ill recognize you
You'll  walk me to my car
Even though I'm determined to walk alone
(Always too determined to walk alone)

I lean in
to hug
You lean in
for more
And I go along because that's me nature
And why the **** not

You'll call
Even though I didn't give you my number
We'll meet in hazy cafes
Dreary bars
All the the places your wife won't go
All the the places that seem like my second home

On our fourth meeting you'll hold me too long
Swear to yourself it's not anything more than longing
You'll doubt our arrangement
I'll be too strung out to see your internal battle
And you will see me
In that moment
As the broken thing
As the special project
That only you can fix
The mess
The that only you
Can hold together

I won't care about the ring line on your finger
You won't care about the *** you see on my kitchen table.
(Or the needles in my bathroom)
You won't care that I open the door in tears
I won't care that you can't stay the night
(But we both really do
Care
About everything)

You'll break down and tell me you love me
Even though you know it's the last thing I want to hear
You tell me
But I refuse to truly
Hear it

It comes through the too short grapevine that she want kids
And that's the notch that hits my trigger
Because children are the one
True innocence
Left in the world
And the second a minor enters our play
Is the moment I make my final exit

You lose me
Because I won't be found
You'll knock on the doors of my dealers
Call the family who turned their backs on me too long ago

I'll try to get it together
(And mostly fail)
I'll listen to too much Carole King
(Don't worry- I won't realize the irony)
The truth will come too clear in the eighth shot of Jameson
(And the nth hit)

The truth I hid from
Those frighteningly cliche three words

You go back to your perfect wife
I go back to my means to an end

You find me again
One night
(I let you find me)
And the accident that created
brightens my world
Wondrously

He becomes my life
The candle in the fog
My own perfection
My reason to feel the dreaded L word
I don't share him though

I'll give him everything
But you
(I'll thank you for the gift
everyday)
(I'll thank you for the love
Every second)

Cold bites at my toes
The music box plays its cherub song
Wind carries us away

Frigid air circles the earth
Giggling girls laugh on home
As breeze moves their hair

Weather has no bounds
Lightening strikes where ere it wants
Rustling leaves fly home

you and I
in the deep silence and
everlasting sanctity of the night
limbs never willing to leave one another
never having to

trapped in a kingdom of blankets
the air fills with fervent looks
and perfervid touches

seconds last for days and
hours last for seconds
our vital forces swirling
and curling together
becoming one vitality

hearts never leaving the other
we become one as the moon
makes his way into that silent night
Our souls will cry for each other
as dawn come
as our eyes open

and our bodies part