that badass Black Queenfluttered across those keys,matching the grooves of herscars, the heart of her artbeaming at war

scaling buildings of thought,mauling the gaul of contention,shattering mirrors of soughtinsecurities & indecision

skipping across the creamydusts of nebulas, tappingthe tips of her toes onstarry mists.

speaking easy whileswallowing fraud & corruption,making phantoms ofamateurs leeching off hersoul’s potential.

That woman raises plants,she carries those babes inthe shallow fissures of Winter,toting magic, piping smokeoff icebergs during Summer,

Melting into them,becoming running water,music flowing from the templesof her fingertipsin all she does & did,

the moon grazing on her Black skin,pints of blood entitling her tohumanity’s continuity,

having nothing to do with physicality,because she steppedout of her body oftenafter unzipping her flesh,freeing her whole spirit.

Blasting boatloads of blasphemy,calming catastrophe while chilling& hurling storms back out to her seas,

embodying coldness,Growing Earth just by beingthe meek breeze breathingLife into the meadows of tomorrow.

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Photo by Samantha Qeja on Unsplash