Eye

The eye of a storm is the calmest, they say
The eye of a storm is the safest
Tell me
Dartmouth –
Where is your eye?
Where do I go to breathe?
To brown skin and feminine without
Packs of hyenas trying to steal my secrets and
Leave me for dead?
Leave me gasping for air in the middle of crowded rooms
Leave me trying to hold my
Friends’ broken bodies together even as I
Disintegrate around them like soft
Ice cream cones in
Acetone
Dartmouth –
Where is your eye?
Can you even see me?
Or does the
Idea
of my black body, the
Illusion
of my dangerous femininity
Enter the conversation before me
Does my activism precede my humanity
Do you perceive me to be a
Collection of
-isms
Threatening your pristine
Ivy
Dartmouth –
Why do I scare you so much?
Raging hurricane, wild wind and rains
Drowning me
Filling my lungs to
Capacity and still my
Pitiful, barely whispered
I can’t breathe
Makes you tremble in your
Boots, the
Boots you stand on my neck in to
Shut me up, the
Boots you wear as you dig my grave, as you
Shovel
debtacademicrigortoxicwhitewaste
Over my head
Into my throat
Dartmouth –
Where is your eye?
You dragged me here by the
Tongue on a
Chain made of
Rainbow-coloured diversity strings
It’s the least you can do to
Keep me
Alive.

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