My Father has a map of the world in His eyes.
We slumber along with Him until he wakes up,
and the light hits the Earth from
His polychromatic irises.
One time, as a bedtime story, He told me,
“Sun, all it takes to create the world
is seven days, and a whole lot of faith,”
but my mortal dad never wanted a daughter,
and gave me nothing to save. I quickly learned
that the secret to the American dream is loss.
Later, he would send my heritage in a cat's cradle
down the muddiness of the Brazos river
because my melanin locked me into habits
that even unconditional love can't stand.
My daddy kisses me like Judas.
I was baptized in hellfire for three days
until he could get drunk off of my spirit.
his eyes shone like morning stars as he crooned,
"baby girl, I have no love left to give,
and I cannot afford the purity of faith,
but I cut your dreams with hope so you can still get high."
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