One of the creamies I am
Neither a white nor a black
Sweaty dirty ugly duck
I belong to no one I tell you
Only perhaps but that may not be certain
Only for a moment but no promise I can make
I may belong to a mountain lake
And sometimes lying under the moon
I terrify myself with an inexplicable thought
And I hear the sound of a lock-lock
No sunshine no clouds and no storms
Can explain such a fear
I can feel my shivering hand no more
Only see my legs that ran so rapidly are sore
My mamma is the night that wakes the eyes with her breasts
She’s telling me “you’re stupid to let your teardrops freeze
And let them stay until the spring melts them with a kiss”
So I’m hoovering the dust off my face
And I cry no more
Though I am a creamy
I believe in magic and song that makes leaves whistle
And faces that make my chest interior sing with wildness
