my little black foot

my black foot

my little black foot

I think it’s too small for my body

I’m pretty tall, and it’s pretty small

I’m pretty

 

my little black foot

being black is so weird

so little that does so much

I didn’t even ask to be black

I’m not complaining, not right now, but it’s so little

 

my little black foot

blacker in some places than others

and my sole is so light

my soul

 

my little black foot

with its badly painted toes

I hate when my toes aren’t perfect, when I’m not perfect

the color is cute, a shimmering pink layered over mauve, or taupe, I’m not sure

really really cute, just kinda smudged from my socks

I love my socks

socks suck though, just look at the toes on my little black foot

 

little foot, little toes

even my nose is little

my hands too

I’m just taking inventory at this point, all because of my little black foot

 

with the Birkenstock tan

I told myself I’d never get Birks

but then I did, and now I love them

they’re comfy, and they look really cute on my little black foot

especially when my toes are perfect

but even when they’re not, the Birks are still comfy

and for that I’m thankful

for my Birks

and for my little black foot

 

6.17.19, 8:17pm

am I a rapper???

So a few months ago, I did a Thing. I’d done it once before, but on a much smaller scale.

Well, let me rewind a bit. A few months and a year ago, I performed at a fashion show on campus, and that’s how we ended up with this post. It was a fun time, with my pre-written poems and weeks of practice, but this year, I wanted to mix it up. Well, I didn’t want to, but I felt like I needed to. A good performer keeps the people on their toes right? That’s why I did the Thing. Continue reading “am I a rapper???”

a quartet, and a question

ā€‹ā€‹

 

ā€‹ Last night, I performed my poetry for the first time. I’ve actually been writing for over five years, but my first true poem was about Cheerios (Iā€™m easily inspired; don’t judge). Still, if you would’ve told me that I’d end up on stage, not singing with my a cappella group, not receiving an award, but reciting my poetry? I would’ve laughed in your face. For at least five years, that’s exactly what I did. I’d push back at every nudge towards a platform, nervous and nauseous at the thought of feeling so exposed. But growth is a never-ending journey, and last night, a new bud bloomed on the tree of my life.

Continue reading “a quartet, and a question”