Pink and orange strokes
shimmering off a Virginia backyard,
Like the fruits of Jamaica
pinned to the sky.
A Toucan pinata,
piranha to my mind.
Clinging forever with sharp teeth, settling in,
Reminder of some young birthday,
Through my glass front door
You can see the impressions,
smudges from lips and cheeks.
A young’un, jumping into leaves of fall
Scattering pop’s work across the lawn,
Had him poppin off, with hints of a smile.
I was so small.
The paint chipped, lines on the wall
got taller and taller.
A vertical timeline, shooting up to the altar,
tryna’ touch god,
but I could never be the Adam,
Mic my angle though.
These moments keep me
preaching to myself.