Poetry: “The Ballad of Melanin”

Danielle Singson | On 06, Dec 2018

The sun caught in her raven hair

Rays reflecting hellfire on her skin

Draped in rags, her slumber in her cage

Crowned with rusted metal

Queen of my fields,

How I desire you

Painting of angels surround us

Pale skin covered in clouds

Backs decorated with wings

But you,

Spine embroidered with stigma

Born from embers of a flame

Sculpted from gold

Your skin like night

I fall into your bottomless eyes

Built like no other

You emanate power

You nail my hands to the wall and tell me to reach

You bound my feet to the ground and demand me to fly

So I do

I create my own damn miracles.