Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
Black
Show me the woman
that would surrender
her little black dress
to a white-robed clan
and I would show you a liar,
Not for their bonfire,
her wardrobe saviour
the number
in which she comes
into her own power.
Go to a funeral
in black and know
that the dead
beside the white candles
will not be offended.
Add amber earrings,
perhaps a hat or scarf of pink
and know you are ready -
for a wedding.
How black absorbs everything.
Stand around at a party
in black - you are your own artist,
your own sensual catalyst,
surprised to say the least
when black brings you
Those sudden inexplicable hostile glances.
Written by Grace Nichols
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