Poetry, Thoughts on Living

Her eyes flitter in sunlight
like butterflies forcing
themselves against the wind.

I wonder why
colored Accuvues reinforce notions
of dark skin and pale eyes
equaling beauty.

Don’t momma’s eyes reflect yours?
Don’t you connect
with the sun-burned whites
of her eyes?

Doesn’t a brown iris
share the depth of your soul,
the coarseness of your Pan-African hair,
the Dominican cocoa sheen of your skin?

Does the chocolate reflection of
Juan Crow laws scare you
into passing as non-his-panic?

Does the cornea reflect the white?

And mine.
Don’t I connect with you?