The Gift and The Curse

To thin the gin Gwen preached of

Doesn’t cure the sin of this skin

Such a weapon

Blazing in Baltimore heat

Guns pointed to that which we cannot smear

It is not a costume

To force into “boxer braids” and Columbused 

It is us

The vibes in hip swung to Marvin

Tapped to the Tempts

It is the deep sun fueled magic

Leaping among Ethiopian cheek bones

It is the strong back of the Antelope

Through Sudanese breeze

With palms up 

In surrender

For not

Skin pierced by bullets

Threatened

By excellence 

Her  tattooed  melanin

a memory in busted headlights

Glazed on Pyramid tops at sunrise

I remember she

Silent assassin

But yet and still

To have life stolen

Still no side mugshots

Still no accountability

To be young

Gifted

And black

A gift

And 

A

curse