The Journey of Bodies

Dear Feet,

When they call you proud for drawing galaxies on your toes, tell them that there are no constellations that made a home in the skies without first traversing the universe.

Dear Hands,

When the boy with the gap tooth tells you how lovely your fingers are and how he cannot wait to feel them against his chest. Ask him if he kisses his mother with that mouth and then proceed to school him on the importance of wearing long sleeved shirts because men like him have mountains for parts of their bodies that rise with the sight of skin.

Dear Mouth,

When the men of this city tell you that you are too pretty to smoke, that your lips are too vaginal pink to turn black from smoking, remind them that their mother’s spent years attempting to love black into their children’s spines. Remind them that it is because of them that your daughters will look for gods in skin lightening creams just so they can appear light enough to be paraded in public.

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