Saudade Accuses Brown Girl

We were children or maybe
you were & I was just trapped

in the belief of one. Even now
every memory is tinged with moonlight.

No one believes me when I say
you were a natural blonde as if a nocturnal couldn’t

approach the light without bleeding. Did you notice
how invisible we were to the trains that passed

our suburb with nowhere to go.
Or maybe they did have plans & I was just

preoccupied in wishing to leave like a rapture.
No one believes me when I say I couldn’t have

done better. As if a moon could
hide under my fingertips without leaking

all over you. As if a gentle rage could
make you change your mind. We were children after all

or maybe that was how you justified it, invisible even
to yourself. Could you stand it, loving an accented tongue,

a brown skin. I always did smell different
from the white girls, all green mangoes and spices

where the subtle notes of Bath & Body fruit mist
should have been. Where the forced laughter should have been. You hated it

when I was honest about your terrible
jokes. No one believes me when I say you stole

all your pick-up lines from Reddit threads or maybe
you lied to me about that too. Could you

stand it, your parents’ questions after I left
the family dinner. You never could muster the courage

or maybe I am just wishing to see things differently.
As if a moon could ever lick its own

milk skin. Even now every memory stings bitter
like the unexpected aftertaste of green mangoes flushed with salt.