WRITING

Find a way to free my soul from the physical elements of this realm and take me to the highest level of the universe,

vibrations filling every part of me when your love provides sustenance to the absence of clothing being more than lustrous activity.

I know we just met but,

I feel like our spirits both belong to the era of the Renaissance

and I would like to behave in the fashion that which art of hides the influence of sin

Can we dance

Slow, to John Coltrane while your saxophone breathes seduction within the melodies of our bodies

Can we sing

Ill go high and you'll go low

Until we figure out that infamous glass shattering trick when notes reach above C

Can we write

Inks of black, the pigments of you, will flow onto the sheets of paper you call baby

Can we paint

Mask our bodies in sweat and roll into water colors and see what our love creates

And though this'll be our first and last time,

Ill think of you on my midnight train to Georgia

Paint me in the essence of your mother

Of locs long and strong,

Your favorite thing about her other than her heart

Make sure they turn out under the epitome of hers.

Sit me between your knees

Melt the Shea in between your palms and roll them like your favorite pass time hobby

Then get the coconut oil from the kitchen and have my scalp shining like the Scorpio moon rested on a royal black sheet surrounded by the stars of locs

Don't wash your hands just yet

Place then upon my shoulders and work your thumbs in between every muscle that lies between my elbows and your knees

I see the beauty of a spirit not pre-characterized by genders labeled by physicla realms. Where bodies are solely for those who can't fathom the idea of a spirit, and not being able to love one without such physicality.

Black skin gone lighter eyes are bigger breasts with only small centers of magazine covers straight down the middle slick and shiny hair can't bend neither can your ass in all the wrong places he says, back rolls he says you are not welcome here is what I mean by beautiful lips thin and pink roses upon white veils fall into gardens where noses are pointy breast sit up on the scale he says, you've failed he says.