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On Mother Devouring Her Daughter

She says Black is the color of evil,

           like a girl in a purple dress that never 

           reaches her long knees who

           looks at other girls with short knees. 

I should have been swallowed, 

           held by the ankles and 

           dropped into her fiery mouth,

           looked at with bulging eyes. 

She tells me I am the child angels whispered in her ear for,

           talked of my betrayal and lust, 

           my rise to family altar as woman

           praising women.

Ungrateful seed, forever sat in the bottom curve of mother’s stomach.

           Will never see the moon.

           Will never meet girls with short knees,

           pretty purple dress,

           pretty purple,

           pretty.

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