a mini moleskine notebook lays in the
pocket of my bright yellow raincoat
binoculars in hand, I seek out your face
amidst the crashing tundra waves.
you call out my name just as the fog
horn blows, I stop to smile, and continue
to watch the goldfinches zoom out of
sight into the grey vast sea of everlasting
winter solemnity.

I think about the days that should have come
as puffins nestle in cozy branches hiding
away from the bitter cold, as you and me
are left outside, bare.
skipping rocks has become such a bore
if I am not able to do it with you.
the touch of your delicate lips as
we swooned in the moonlight to
french jazz and the fishing knots that
would come undone no matter how many
times we tried to go ashore in that rusty
old boat, both dressed as sailors.

I’m content here in solitude away from the
ambiguous world, in our own making,
hidden from reality.
in our own frost-ridden snow globe,
if you must. lost in time, stepping
to our transient melody.

I never think much about the fact that I am black.
I know I am black.
Like I know I am a girl,
Like I know I am an American,
Like I know I am nineteen.
It is a fact; I am black.

I hate when people say I am not.
My parents are black.
Their parents are black.
We are black.
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not be black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I don't 'act' black.
How does one act to be considered black?
How am I acting? How is it not black?
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not act black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I speak like a white person.
A way of speaking is not exclusive to race.
I am not white.
I do not speak like a white person.
My words are coming out of my black mouth.
I speak properly,
The way my black parents raised me to.
Look at my skin,
Its dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not speak black?
I am black.

I HATE when people say I am a white person trapped in a black body.
I have NEVER heard anything more insulting.
I am NOT trapped.
This color is NOT a cell.
I wear it proudly.
Look at MY skin,
It is DARK and it is BEAUTIFUL!
How could I ever be trapped?
I am black.

I am in no way white,
Nor do I ever want to be.
I am black
And black is beautiful