I Feel Most Colored When I am Asked to Wear Black

-after Morgan Parker

And I feel dark. And I am the sky

at midnight. And I am

overlooked. And I am erased

from history. Or, I am suppressed.

Or, I vow. Or, I am silent.

Or, I cry. And I scream.

Make it quiet. Sweep

me under the rug. Disposable.

I feel most colored when I pray.

I feel most colored when I say

I believe. I feel most colored

when I misplace my tongue

while sifting between my teeth

for something polite to say.

My mouth is a coffin.

When I die,

I will be the color white

because white is the color

that resonates.Or, I will be gray.

I will be gray then because now

I am black. I will be storm clouds.

I will be sidewalks. Or, I will be a stone.

I am skipped

across a lake. Then,

I sink. I feel most colored

when everyone claps.

I feel most colored when shots fire

and I laugh. My ears ring too loud.

And, I can’t hear petals

hit the ground.