Member-only story
my precious is not a ring I wear,
it’s two hearts
beating at least sixty to one hundred times per minute
times two — inside two bodies
not mini me’s, rather extensions of the seeds planted in pieces of me blossoming in gardens I keep watering to flourish evergreen
they’ll stand on my shoulders and reach further beyond the edge of me
maybe in the end, they’ll carry me like a pressed flower inside the top left pockets of their blazers for at least another five to seven years
until my colour begins to fade
and they pick up the baton, continuing this race
to love and be loved
in full colour that other eyes may be too blind to see
those others with shoulders too narrow to carry two brown brothers in arms who’ve inherited freedom and the Sun inside their DNA
warriors who won’t have to fight to be human.
skin melanin rich, ebony coated tender flesh
and ivory bones like minerals that cannot be bought and sold
still rivers running deep
carriers of peace
