Black Light


“You’re too dark to be mixed.” I roll my eyes trying not to look too bothered by the comment I hear repeatedly throughout the week.

I often do not even reply. What would be my rebuttal? Instead, I look down on the ground, tap my feet and wait anxiously for someone to change the subject.

Dear Melanin… 

They question you, but I don’t dare

You are what you are, a rapturing cape of silk linen over my dry bones and fiery red blood

A bullseye, the targeted, the color that builds nations of a flock too humble to accept it’s reward.

The mirror of the majority of outer space, the vastness of dark matter enclosed in a matrix that refers to it as a minority.

I’ve gulped the lies of generations before me, still stuck in my throat, rotting and bitter, dry & unseasoned.

Awaiting the acidic pool of destruction in my stomach.


By Janell Hihi


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