If I Tell

by Ayanna

If I tell you
I have skin the colour of
Sunday lunchtime stew chicken
Bubbling with pumpkin and brown sugar
and, fit to buss, a red-hot pepper.

If I tell you
My hair does flow strong and true
Like heights of flambouyant
Reaching in to savannah sky blue
Or when in rows
Could tell tales of cane
Testimony to centuries
of blood and pain.

If I tell you
'bout hips and melodious backside
round and sweet like
Despers six-bass line
'bout thighs that strum like cello
and waist
that could move with crack-shot
tenor man pace.

If I tell you
My smile like sequined light
That dance on the back of man/dragon in flight
Of fantasy down potholed street
Eyes like glitter gold dust
Brought high by stomp of bacchanal feet.

If I tell you
'bout a heart with love to give
like rhythm of tide
and coolness of breeze
love to heat your blood with consummate ease
'Bout back that broad
and hands that strong
'Bout a battemamzelle woman
yuh can’t tie down.

If I tell you this
Could you hold my hand?
Past centuries and oceans
Would your heart understand?

If you stand here, Stranger
And my heart you see
And your mindsight could behold
My mystery
Then this thing could bloom
Benediction, Grace
Seeds of redemption in this place
A love to rewrite history.

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