Life From (In) a PWIDevin Tyler
Upon shoulders (and shoulders
                                           and shoulders)
sits the killing of afros and cornrows,
               maps carved into zig-
                                                       zagged hair shafts.
Gone and never to be comprehended by those without the Knowledge
on how to embrace black beauty at a passing glance. The eyes
That stare (and stare
                                  and stare)
                                                                           from wan-skinned eye sockets
                                                                                into the soul and
                                               from the soul, it knows this beauty will never be understood.