I love you for your
brownness
And the rounded
darkness of your breast
I love you for the
breaking sadness in your voice
And shadows where your
wayward eyelids rest
Something of old forgotten queens
Lurks in the lithe
abandon of your walk
And something of the
shackled slave
Sobs in the rhythm of your talk
Oh, little brown girl, born
for sorrow’s mate
Keep all you have of
queenliness
Forgetting that you once
were slave
And let your full lips
laugh at Fate!
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