London

I

some towers are made of cladding

some made of ivory

some burn in the night

some built by slaves

wind rushes through coarse hair

body aches between vertebrae

you are my first and everlasting love

you are a grey block grey sky wonder

you are the hardest poem I’ve ever written

II

my words are heavy rocks in my throat

perhaps there is no way to describe the

mother-daughter

abuser-survivor

teacher-student

long-lost-friend

pen-pal

relationship that we have

III

I imagine hard lines when I think of you

the beginnings of destruction

worlds upended to bring you gold

you are the birthplace of endings

gunpowder

sapphires

concrete poured over bloodstains

petrichor

I am a product of white man and Mama Africa

my bones are made yellow through violence

and time

and migration

IV

you are sharp edges

you are a city that smells like death

you put my grandparents on ships sent them back to stolen islands

you are deep, intrinsic love

you are the only world I needed.