Creamy

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