Ms Stanley, Do You Have The Time?

Ms Stanley, do you have the time?

I was hoping you and I

could take a walk through the Anatomy Lab,

we would go past the test tubes of blood

Red,from people all over the world,

we would not stop where the viruses grow on every kind of pink tissue from every nation and land,

We wouldn’t stop at the microscopes to see the brown cells swollen with melanin on your skin,

but instead we would walk to skeleton room, the bowl of bones, and wouldn’t you be shocked to find,

No black bones there.

When I Am President Of The World

When I am president of the world
I will ban ‘they’.
All that will be is
You and I,
We will do something about our planet,
Respond to health needs in our world, wherever they occur,
We’ll learn to adore the brown, beige and popcorn of our skin,
We’ll taste each others names afresh and savour their sweetness on our tongues,
We’ll settle our differences, find ways to work around our dislikes,
When we are hungry, we will find food because what I so desperately need is what you are glutted with and now throw away.
In a world where there is no they, or them,
In a world where there is just you and me, us and we,
There will be no more pain.

Politically Incorrect Affair

There are no words for what we have
No terms to express
The tenderness
That is you and I,
So we hide
Pretend not to feel
Pretend not to care
Pretend not to smell each others hair,
We silence our hearts
Swallow ballads whole
Let our brown eyes flicker then dive to the floor,
Suffer without sound
As feelings well up and crash against our ribbed chests,
Living for stolen times
When our spirits meet
And like embraces like
Lips meet cheek
We commune in spirit
No need to speak.

God Seeker

Stop searching
For me in your test tubes
Stop groping for me in your equations
Stop straining your eyes against the stars to catch a glimpse of my existence.

Don’t stand
On the earth I created
And mouth blasphemy

And accept you don’t know it all

Or else make your own planet and your moons

And venture into a galaxy
Of your own

Oh, but leave your earth suit behind
And the breath you borrowed from me.

Crescent and Cross

His hair,black short and curly
His eyes, large warm and doe-like
His voice and the way he says my name,
His hands and the way they wrap themselves around my frame,
A liaison most unlikely
A pact unapproved,
Can a crescent and a cross
Play as one?
Isn’t it strange
I travelled a thousand kilometres
To find him
A brother from another time
Sitting right next to me.

I Am With You

I am with you,
On the crowded streets littered with bloated bodies,
In the black of night when the bats flap their wings and shriek directions to their next cave,
When the sun is overhead, a silent yellow ball burning melanomas into unsuspecting skin,
When you jump in fright as the gunshots echo down the alley,
Through dreams where friends morph into monsters,
To the end of time.

The Things Between Our Legs

Young man,
I sit by the midwife’s couch
And wait for you to show me where your superiority was born.

I want to see when you became more equal,
to hold it and smell it.
To wrap it around myself.

I want to be taught the maths of worth.
How a human is made invisible, how a woman disappears,
how oppression evolves, how sacrifice is undone.

Could it be when I carried your father for inside me for nine long months?
Weathering Morning sickness, Malaria, Anaemia and HIV?

Or was it while I walked two kilometres without food or water through a pain that defies words to squat on this couch and push you out?

It can’t be while I nursed you at my breast,
Fed you from my body for twenty four.

Aha! It was when you became a man.

When you no longer needed a napkin change,

When you learnt how to blow your nose,

When my pots were empty and my grain had fed you fat,

When your muscles rippled as you walked,

When you were old enough to work, and you had discovered the thing between your legs could put urine in bottles,

And forgot the thing between mine had borne you.