Kite Dreams

black-woman

The days that golliwogs were scarecrows
Are gone. Now doves roost
Inside golliwog hearts. Onyx
Is now valued not for the saturation of color
But for the chemistry. There are no
More scapegoats for hate, only
Clones of Othello, whose hearts
Are captured by Desdemonas.
And dark is beautiful now, from
America to India, where coffee-bean
Sculptures in dermal tuxedos,
Are making splashes everywhere
You look. Beauty is not just a movement
Or a benchmark, it is diluting
All prejudices of the eye, to remedy
The vanilla-flavored retina.
And with time, doves become magpies
And so do the crows.

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