Holy Translucence
A poem that breathes
--
They used to come here
The rich kids
Their cars all shiny
They rolled up from
A place near our hood
Walked across the green St. Augustine
A rolling meadow of luck and lawn
Way back
Where the English ivy climbs unchecked
And the fine houses are lined up
Like old maids
Behind an army of trees
Those with eyes of crystal blue
Such light-haired dignity
Sometimes, most couldn’t resist
That skin envy thing
Something inside me
Trying to claw its way out
But I could look at these kids and know
What it was liked to be kissed
By Destiny’s favored offspring
Soft lips and all
And even though I burned with desire
To be golden too
Just them kids walking
Fired up the holiest of dreams
My next pitch
Was to the good god of evenness
I wondered what I’d look like
With sacred skin
And eyes full of magic
Just so I could measure
The exquisite holiness of the others
