wolf, but she be one. she be right here, barin'
soft bones. expanded canvas of sun-kissed skin
catchin' all the light for itself, hungry for her
hands to give that cocoa butter magic down
legs. down thighs, thick, with stretch marks
& scars. over hips like valleys. ‘round
stomach, stretched from weight. between
breasts and neck. past
long arms. long fingers. see? no part of her
is less than a motherfuckin' howl of a hurricane.
she be big, she take up space. she sets
Seventeen magazines on fire for fun,
tells white girl to mind her business. ‘i eat
what i want to. i laugh if I need to.’

(mother beg for sheep.
mother get wolf. mother get wolf.)