Nearly One of Them

To the girls and boys who aren’t black enough. . .
Trust me, you are.
It’s a honey complexion that under cuts your brothers
and sisters.
It’s the music you listen to that perplexes them
the clothes you wear
the rapport you’ve built w/whites
the speech pattern you’ve managed
the secular passions you seek
the power you’ve been given
This baffles them and it riles them up something fierce.

To the girls and boys who aren’t black enough. . .
Trust me, you are.
It’s a honey complexion that draws the whites around
you.
They feel safe and secure with you because they know you
they ask you prying questions
they offend you with black jokes
they marvel your exoticism
they pick up remnants of your Kwanza
they want the general consensus from you
This empowers them and it riles you up something fierce.