American flags o o z i n g t h r o u g h t h e i r t e e t h
I grew up on bag j u i c e a n d g u i n e p
I can still feel m a n g o d r i p p i n g d o w n m y f a c e
On hot summer da y s
How do I reconci l e o n e h o m e w i t h a n o t h e r ?
I stand in the middle of a sweaty frat party
And I can’t help but wonder if
My country is
Jealous of my lips against another woman’s
Full of envy
green and lush
Like Poison Ivy growing
From blood stained
Sugarcane fields
Home of my ancestors
I’d like to believe they mourn
My country’s mistreatment of queer
They’re the only ones who know
What it’s like
people
But sweet rebellion
Tastes like rum burning the back
Of my throat before I kiss my girlfriend
Burning the fields of downpression
Jah, Rastafari
My country,
Sweet like ah sugah
& hot like a fyah
Both at home
And abroad
My teeth bite into the sweet flesh
cane and
My gums bleed
I can’t help but see the irony
of
sugar
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