I Wouldn’t Be White

Something hot, dishy, and dark
with hip swinging music.
Bistre, palms the color of a manila envelope.
No freckles. No narrow nose that leans.
Trade in eyes of rainwater gray,
for a pair that snap and sizzle.
Let me be long where now I’m short
with a voice like the vibe in a low e guitar string
Rebalance my brain
a shift from the right
so I can walk without listing.
Would I keep anything?
Yes.
Every scar and its myth
and my hands—
not for beauty
for their art
especially the left.

–Dannon O’Brien