Cheyenne Anjali
my people identify themselves by the sea.
they are always interested in the non-black parts of me.
the baby soft hairs of my growing unibrow,
beauty marks scattering across my skin like stardust
dark curls twining around themselves like lovers,
pink lips longing for tamarind sauce and callaloo,
brown skin like mangoes, sweet and easy bruising
tender beating heart hiding in the shell of a guinep,
my blood flowing like sorrel, a smoky garnet river,
hips swaying to the rhythm of chutney melodies
body rolling like the salty sea that birthed me.
the spiritual singing of somebody owned,
hands clasped in a prayer and worked to the bone
the voyage from curried channa and aloo to taken lands
a mother praying to Mary, scrawny school-girl, and pan man,
i am my foremothers and my forefathers
all together at once.
my dreaming like milky soursop,
rooted in my family,
rooted in my home.
Cheyenne Anjali is a senior, majoring in creative writing (fiction) on the pre-law track. When she’s not reading YA fantasy, she enjoys hanging out with her sisters, Camille and Anya, and writing stories about small towns with complicated families. She is from Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
