Boycott the dark girl!

Don’t tell them about race. Middle America
doesn’t want to face your afros and wide nose,
your full lips and round hips.

Boycott the dark girl!

Rip open your blouse, measure the humpback
on which a nation’s edifices are housed,
count the scars from raw cowhide
whipped into formation of a chokecherry plantation.

Boycott the dark girl!

Mend your heartstrings across the violin bridge,
play an empowering song by raising your fist.
Splash shades of brown throughout the stadium field—
a prism of acceptance, their politics must yield.

Boycott the dark girl!

A call for peace, an end to violence
is an attack, they say.
You were beaten, raped,
your genitals dissected and put on display.

Dance on the boycott, dark girl.

Hatred can’t make them turn you away.
Your purple skin is imperial. Reclaim your domain
as you slay on the stage in Black Panther berets.

© 2016 Nortina Simmons

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