Saturday, October 27, 2018

Overread at Booth 2: Poem of the Day: Onyx Fingertips

                Fingertips, you touch
                my skin, and thus, you
                assign my identity.
                I am merely the
                race you require of
                me, according
                to the situation.
                At a restaurant, I             
                am white, at our
                family fiestas,
                soy puro Latino,              
                and for this
                I am black
                and hard
                as onyx.


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