My heart's yearning, singing, flinging itself
our there to people with joy I

listened to the school nurse talk about
eating a mango with her bare hands

over the kitchen sink, red and ripe,
juice running down her arms

and I was so happy, I want to live where
ripe mangoes drip off trees.

where a mother wraps me up in her arms.
where it's too balmy to be afraid,

where I don't have to stand up straight,
back straight, don't have to live showing my fists

to show my back isn't bent, my heart is still beating,
my soul isn't dimmed or scuffed.

I want to write poetry that makes the
world sing and stories that give girls wings.

I want to be a child, unconcerned and wild,
wings at the heels of my feet, but
I want to help my sisters sing.