how would our mothers feel
if they knew we considered their defilement a gift
birthing tones worthy of
praise & admiration?
would our pale-tainted pride remain
had we been there to see
her enduring eyes
flood with phallic despair?
had we been there to hear her pleas with divinity
crack open the night?
to hear that mocking echo
move swiftly through the living quarters
our idea of beauty has been corrupted.
we brag of complexions born
from the cracks of whips & clasps of steel,
forced upon us in the unarming night & brazen day.
have we so soon forgotten this bastardized ancestry?