brown skin farmer girl (this changeling poem)
~
we are I’ve decided
alike and unlike.
I know, an epiphany.
we are both brown skinned,
the sun has wrested my skin
buried it in dark loamy,
soiled brown side by side,
now alike.
your hair is long(er)
now, mine too.
a cascading mountain ranging,
edging south from your Columbia,
to my Columbia
over my ears, down my neck,
which like yours, dreams knightly
of being loved by endless kisses,
a prince(ss) charmant
~
we could not be
more different,
than how god us designed.
but here’s the rub,
people change,
they dream of becoming,
reinventing the original design,
and this explains
not the why, but the how,
how this poet came to write
this changeling poem.
~
and you think we could not be more different and
more alike, and you would be rightly correct.
