a flowerpot sitting on the subway platform dreaming of a southern sky
i am the southern sky
bruised hues of blues
an inner city with an ocean front view
a holy ghost tongue possessed btwn the pews 

sleepless in the twilight
a vision board invisible to eyesight
loose hips humming under summer porch lights

i am the djembe drum rhythms spun between love-drunk knees
im a runaway river
a sawed off shot gun creeping through the leaves
a kiss that quivers
a machete that bleeds
i am the bananas on Josephine’s skirt
a brown liquor flirt
the gardenia in Billie holidays hair
im a blues song in a cigarette’s glare
a beaded Zulu hat on Makeba’s head
Bob Marley’s lock a natty dread
i am Marcus Garvey’s last microphone
ancient lady of grace Nefertiti’s royal thrown
i am a poem handwritten by La Lupe on the Malecon
im a grassroots meeting of orishas in the basement of a brownstone
a homegirl homegrown and magic
a mermaid of memory swimming thru tragic times
i am the one that got away
i am the love i never had
a cypher of butterfly wings
im a little girl who had big dreams
and prayers in my mother’s purse
i am the color of Saturday
bouncing off the walls
i drizzle in the wind like a sun shower’s shawl
i am the final hour
before the moon rests
im what a day looks like honest and undressed
i am la cascarilla on the door, windows and vents.
a protector of realms
im a Bwiti shaman who ascends
im the mirror, the root, and the end.

-aja monet