When this body was first given to Me,naked and undiscovered, it was all mine.
I unroll the map of my world. My bodyis an expansive country on the scroll. I am colored infour directions for each place I was colonized.Each city in each region named Violentin honor of the conquering men. Here,Violence smells like smoked lavender& chai. It’s an exotic gift; a languageI am grateful to know.How else could I communicatewith the rest of God’s world?
I speak the language so good noweven my laugh has a tax.Open my mouth and my tongueis a split fork road. Misogyny.Misogynoir. Trauma. My accent, gonelike a good, obedient girl.
I’ll tell you how to decolonizethe body. It starts with a warof the bones. The marrow armed withexplosive salt. Before this it was GoldCoast. It was Slave trade. It wasyour body got everyone’s namebut your own.
I’ll tell you, when your blood becomesa boiling harbor, throw the damnedtea in. Rip all their flags from your melting veins.When the riots begin, drink petrol. Straight. Smoke,fresh from the belly is a dialect too.
When it ends. After you sweepthe luke-warm anti-lovers, the venom’s dust,the metal glitter of the bombs, the soft and sweetsoot, into the corners of yourself -in every direction set a mirror. Sit in the center. Drink honey,straight. And scream I belong to me. Oh dear God, I belong to me