Page 110 of The Black Flamingo

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to find myself. I come from deep issues

and shallow solutions.

I come from a limited vocabulary

but an unrestricted imagination.

I come from a decent education

and a marvelous mother.

I come from being given permission

to dream but choosing to wake up

instead. I come from wherever I lay

my head. I come from unanswered

questions and unread books, unnoticed

effort and undelivered apologies

and thanks. I come from who I trust

and who I have left.

I come from last year and last year

and I don’t notice how I’ve changed.

I come from looking in the mirror

and looking online to find myself.

I come from stories, myths, legends,

and folktales. I come from lullabies

and pop songs, hip-hop and poetry.

I come from griots, grandmothers,

and herstory tellers. I come from

published words and strangers’ smiles.

I come from my own pen but I see

people torn apart like paper, each a story

or poem that never made it into a book.

After the open mic,

I’m talking to this couple.

Simon is white;

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