When he said he wanted to call me a race

my knotted answer
was not facetious
it was throat | silhouette
forbidden escape

the intruders suggested i write about gender
            instead of race, race instead of madness
madness instead of Blackness (when he said
he wanted to call me a race he accelerated
the construction process;

            i am punching bright holes in each wall of this building)

when they talk about white homes
             i think of a mental health ward
when they talk about white homes
             i think of my resolute sketch of a body
when they talk about white homes
             my shell changes colour (a poem
is a poem) | when he said he wanted to call me a race
he meant i was crossing the border
             of his crisis | a crisis that would claim me eventually
because colour must be inhabited, ingested, immanent

protoconch       →        colourless
circular shell    →        iridescent forms a shoreline

between bespoke body and electr(on)ic footnotes
body turns to b(u)oy(e)d | letters swap | sprout | places shaped to transpose
             prismatic weirdness
             into the deep
             certainty of

             limitless

 
             variation

 

 

 

 

Fleur Lyamuya Beaupert (she/they) is an Australian poet of Tanzanian and Anglo-Indian descent, living on Wangal land. Their work has appeared in Anomaly, Not Very Quiet, Rigorous, Social Alternatives, Scum, Meniscus, and elsewhere.