Black Looks - Including an African LGBTIQ+ Archive



flowers of the season smile open in the summer rays
and spray wild perfume, sweetening the morning air —
a lazy breeze on my balcony.

i open my eyes. i yawn. blink.
the ceiling is blank white.

the breeze is so listless, the
delhi heat is already curling around
my neck licking my skin wet. i feel good.

from the palm of this hand to the scar on my upper lip,
from the cap of hair on my head to my cracked heel,
a sweaty caramel-skin blankets my frame and nothing bleeds.

the arch of my back holds up the body of a man comfortable.
i blink. i blink.
i don’t mind sweat.

from between white sheets of satin i emerge
like honey slowly escaping a pool of milk. i stand there beautiful,
why must i camouflage?

two steps forward and the mirror catches me. i turn
and stare.

two steps forward and i plant these feet on the balcony,
this pelvis against the rails.

a woman on the street is selling vegetables from a cart.

1 Comment

  1. Sokari

    Am speechless at your poem _ Wholly vivid, erotic, sensual. I imagine an apt in Ajegunle with a few  petty traders on the streets below.  Egyptian cotton sheets so pure as to feel  like white silk (thus perfect at absorbing sweat and preferring cotton to satin) . Wakingbtomthat early morning moist earthy smell after a night of rain -.