Brown boy, believe you me when I say
You look good enough to taste
You look good enough to eat
You look good enough to be
swallowed whole.
Brown boy, why don't you believe
how far they will go
around you
braced and embracing
coiling and recoiling
far, far around you
beneath you
into you.
Brown boy, how far they will dare go —
why don't you believe me,
why don't you listen when I say
You don't look good enough
You don't see far enough
Body and blood, and sweat and semen:
You don't taste yourself long enough
You don't hold yourself close enough —
So enough.
Take off that fucking closet, brown boy,
black boy, orange boy,
boy of a thousand colours
oozing and fragrant
alive and dyingly still.
Take off that closet, brown boy,
and get close enough
for me to smell who you really are.
Take off that chest.
Strip off those arms.
Let them minister to the very flesh
and bone of your psyche
to the body of your heart
and the pounding blood
of a man-woman so far away from himself
that he now does not need to look far.
So look far, brown boy.
Go fuck yourself, and
go free yourself, because
only you are who you say you are.
And believe you me when I say
You are alpha and most certainly omega.