well, shit.
all those years i done
dedicated to seeing my skin
hexed up under this neon.
each glossy decade gone
to waste, pretty
wigs on a girl too stuck
on ugly
to ever pass.
as all good queens know,
deception is born
from a trick
of the light.
a blonde strand
coddled newborn-soft
on the crown of
my head.
it don’t come off, you know.
the shame beneath
the smoke
i conjure onto
my eyes each
morning. instead,
it stain rouge
on every memory
where my mama planted
her voice.
i slip into minstrel
smooth as the latest season
of Dior.
and don’t i look divine?
this slim & selfish walk
done sissied me
straight to a godless heaven.
my ancestors ain’t got
but one thing to say
to me these days:
“good luck // and don’t
fuck it up”
IMANI DAVIS is a queer Black writer from Brooklyn. Their poetry appears with PBS News Hour's Brief But Spectacular series, The Adroit Journal, Best of the Net, TEDx, and elsewhere. A recipient of fellowships from Mellon Mays and the Stadler Center for Literary Arts, they currently attend the University of Pennsylvania. You can find them at imani-davis.com and @imanixdavis.