why i love black women

once upon a second thought,
the third world sort of tripped,
upon the magic of its sudden darkness - tight-lipped

joyous and jubilant was its mouth, my only root
my only freedom gestured by its three-fingered-salute

it did not know its meaning,
cared little for time or space,
asked no metaphysical questions (while)
rearing our reptilian grace

i cannot ever repay it,
for how do you dissolve death's debt?
i can only love black women -
because it makes me forget.


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