MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

Last Night I Discovered I Was Wood

Dharani Persaud

You said my bumps and curves
were not smoothed down enough so

you took me to walk on floors
nailed in uniform lines
and you said

Look, this is what you could be

You say polished grain is more beautiful
than harsh bark

that roots should stay
in dirt squares
flanked by gum-covered concrete

I wish I could reply

tell you how
this black hair scorches in the sun
how white scars last far too long
on this brown skin

how this body
bends under the weight
you have given to those with light eyes
and lacquered skin

But this evening Im still wood
still coarse uneven ashy
a trunk layered in years
but without the proper words