half casteA Poem by charliefor a mother. for a son.imagine the young woman in her house. then the man comes in. stays there. you come next, child: though not an heir, but counterfeit, or thereabouts.
you grow there, child. in the door way. on ledges of windows you learn: a foot inside and one foot out; now turn - but not turn away.
you will be spurious and marginal, child. your blood runs red. though borderline. you swim real good in port wine: ‘cause there’s no place else for exile.
imagine the young woman in her house. she sweats and screams at the wall. you were stolen before you could crawl for her crime of an unwanted spouse.
so you become neither white nor black. and you idle there, child, blue-grey: a “creamy”, “coconut” b*****d they say to your face, aswell as your back.
on ledges of windows you learn two worlds add up to none. but I am still in this house, my son: don’t turn away... return © 2018 charlieAuthor's Note
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Added on July 27, 2018Last Updated on July 27, 2018 Tags: first australian Author
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