D.N.A. (deliciously naked authenticity)
I must confess
That even if I could
Halve, quarter, eighth or sixteenth
My flesh, bone and blood,
I would not.
I am raw oxtail teased with spices,
Tossed in with tomato and diced veggies.
My meat has absorbed une mélange de saveurs
That makes lovers salivate over my succotash
Sneak under the cover to lick the pot.
Despite an atavistic hot mess
From mostly forced miscegenation
Forged through economics, lust, hate and greed
Sprouted from seeds over beaucoup de générations,
Pride I’ve still got.
I forgive ruthless
Statements that, unlike my hair,
I’m an “oreo,” rootless beneath the skin —
For every moment and in pure love
I live and breathe Divinity and Blackness.
Poem: “D.N.A. (deliciously naked authenticity)” © 2014 Chantale Rêve All Rights Reserved