Same Building
we came up same building,
same busted elevator, same rumors in the walls —
three girls stacked on top of each other
like secrets whispered through radiator pipes.
6S - she’s half rican, half black,
but don’t call her half - she all attitude,
dark skin glowing when she laughs too loud,
hips slick like she dancing with nobody’s permission.
5E - 5’1 and built like a threat,
she got a stare that’ll stop you mid-lie.
she hate surprises, so we never sneak up -
she come knocking first if you do her wrong.
then me - 7N, freckles spread like stars on light skin,
red-brown hair tied up, book in my lap,
content to stay inside while they chase block heat.
they pull me out anyway - stoop nights, corner gossip,
big dreams that don’t always fit our pockets.
we so different it make no sense -
three girls shaped like soft rebellion,
like hard lessons, like love
that never needed no permission slip.
puberty tried to twist us up,
boys tried to break us open,
life threw her worst
and we just leaned closer -
me, yaphia, tarita - same building girls,
same busted elevator,
still going up.
Copyright ©
Windy Martinez
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