open flesh

they're bleaching in india.
jamaica, too.
in ghana, nigeria, and just about everywhere on
the continent.
transform warm, mud bodies
into jaundiced,
paper flesh.
the strands so thin and worn
the skin will not hold.
this is flesh
made transparent
these bodies keep no secrets.
the veins loudly tell
all that they know.
me,
i'll keep my secrets.
these arms, breasts, legs, torso, ears, and buttocks
no one will extract my stories from my skin
this trauma of race.
i will not underwrite my own death
i will not erase myself.