From "Life According to Motown" by Patricia Smith
first of all, it's being 9 years old and
feeling like you're not finished, like your
edges are wild, like there's something,
everything, wrong, it's dropping food coloring
in your eyes to make them blue and suffering
their burn in silence. it's popping a bleached
white mophead over the kinls of your hair and
primping in front of mirrors that deny your
reflection. it's finding a space between your legs,
a disturbance at your chest, and not knowing
what to do with the whistles. it's jumping
double dutch until your legs pop, it's sweat
and vaseline and bullets, it's growing tall and
wearing a lot of white...it's flame and fists
and life according to motown, it's finally
having a man reach out for you
then caving in
around his fingers.