By Maskya Dougé
Give me a Sundrenched Monday
You smother me and follow
The first “hello” was cunning
Voice spoken in riddles
Old voice making claims to be an author
Slowly inching as I arch back
Body’s first warning
but
Black girls wedded with gilded fingers, red chokers, and psychedelic art breathe for something to write about
not by laws nor by morality
So I entertain
It took me no longer than 3 minutes to realize
I don’t love you
I disintegrate beneath and between the dark wooded arenas of your eyes for weeks
Last year it was 8 months
I atomize to scribble my illegible poetry and stare at this bashfully white ceiling
Illegible for privacy purposes
And you love it
Oh you love me more I swear
Give me a sundrenched Monday and at least 1000 steps on Harlem gravel
I’ll lie and promise love
Harlem love
My GG’s hopscotching grounds
I love her and I know you
You only know of me
yes
The love is real, just not for you
Our last moon was Waning waiting for a Downtown 1 train
Give me my bag and the freedom to step right and away
Our last Waning Moon was a look Felt not Seen
Disintegration is permanent yes
Yet
All goodbyes aren’t gone
and
All hellos haven’t just got there