when you find me
i will be the body of a boy that hates you.
and you will not know where this hatred comes from and you will tell yourself that it is love.
and this is a beautiful thing
and the worst thing
but this is a beautiful thing
your recycling of spit and slurs into sweet honey handholds and imaginary
shoulder touches. when you find me i will be the
white boy that owns you more than you want him too.
more than he thinks he can.
more than you knew was possible
when you find me you will have found the impossible.
you will have burned a bridge
and dug a hole
and planted a pot
and loved a lot
when you find me
your mother’s tears will be distant memories and your father’s shouts will be
wounds that wane and tighten and tingle,
tickle sometimes when you’re with people that have been cut,
too. when you find me
your best friend will have resigned
shelving her childhood fascination with your laughter
or so she will tell you. and you will believe her
and you should, for you are not all that.
and you were 13, once. and you did not know me but i knew you
like glitter glue stick and extra vaseline on paper cut.
they said you were sensitive and they were right.
but who would have known just how brittle the bones of a black boy could be
under the weight of negro graveyards singing brandy?
the boy is mine remains one of your favorite hymns.
when you find me i will be blacker than coal lung
i will be wet and wriggling
gasping for air
i will be dancing
when you find me i will be unspoken crushes
and your biggest crush is yourself
and it is the most unspoken, too.
when you find me i will demand you hold your hands out, sometimes.
i will be the legacy. i will be the lake front chill that tingles your spine on a summer’s night.
i will be your Black grandmother’s hands that look more like yours than yours do hers.
when you find me i will be sewed into shower sonnets
and blogged poems.
when you find me i will be waiting for you at the door.
when you find me i will be yours and you will be