When you lit that cigarette

The bones of me shuddered,

The blood in me halted.

What I wouldn’t do for you to light my flame with your lips....

Because I’ve had men tell me that my lipstick tastes of petrol,

That my mouth lights fires,

That my tongue causes explosions

And of course, that opening my legs is the best way to put a fire out.

But this fire begins at you...

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There’s a floor called race and a home called blood,

it can be what forms you.

It can be what clothes you, what warms you as it flows through your body,

a rich honey providing brotherhood, relation, family and love -

bonds of pride which cartwheel through your body.

I have a mystery and in my father lies the clues.

I had droplets of speciality, uniqueness, distinction, excitement...

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