The landscape of a body is uneven when it is stretched, like truth, over a mahogany canvas; a self–portrait under fire.
It captures the trials of mountainous playing fields and deep rooted valleys, the ripeness of Southern crop; cashed, naked,trod by deliberate shoes.
It is a crushed shield against the spray of injustice, as profilers pierce the harvest. It is a clear separation of body and spirit; a ridge between you and I; the scaffold to freedom swaying shapes of the powerless who whisper why?
It is the aimless snapping of judgment; a sequence of frames cast in a dark room;
the underground of theories to passageways in dingy light; shipped on the still of rippled breath, wading in nebulous streams.
It is a castration of marginalized dreams that stand,
clinging to existence; abbreviated before saying goodbye.
It is the sun ascending just beyond the horizon of shadows;
flashing retribution amidst the fall of tears.
–Published in Flights Literary Magazine, 2016