"This Is Me Too," A Poetry Post

This is me,
suited up in a
tailored black
pants suit
and jet black
knee highs,
round-toed pumps and
transitional black
lenses in the sun.

This is me,
negotiating
grant funding
for community programs,
writing pages-long proposals,
conducting
collaborative sessions
over teleconference.

This is me
capped with straightened tresses or
bumped curls or
a pixie cut,
staring fiercely into
your soul with
piercing eyes
unflinching.

And this is me too,
in fitted black cotton jogging pants and
a white tank top,
black ballet flats and
no socks.

This is me
wearing a wide square frame
that sits on the bridge of my nose
and slides when I
hold my head down
too long.

This is me
negotiating
breakfast and
lunch and
dinner for
me and my son
around my
full-time
work schedule.

This is me
arguing life issues
with my teenager.

This is me,
loosing my flat twists and
rubbing de-tangler and
leave-in moisturizers and
Hot Six Oil
into my fight-the-power
afro,
spraying in
cool water from a
short green bottle
I got
from the
Chinese hair store.

It is senseless
to believe
you could
love the
all black everything
me
and
not love the
spread wide afro me.

It is senseless
to believe that
you could love the
strong-willed, engaging me and
not love the
weary, worn
exhausted me.

It is senseless
to believe that
you could love the
erect, high-heeled me and
not love the
flats me.

You cannot
have one
without
the other.

-T. D. James-Moss