As Shadow Black, my own body isn’t impeded from being, but the uncoupling that stops me from being able to touch myself, to see with my own eyes seems impossible. That is the true trick of oppression, its ability for retinal takeover. Even my mirrored self is adjunct.
These poems become my first words. I mourn and learn prayers of self, here, as the Bodied Poet. In the safe house of this book. But still. I was not voiceless as Shadow Black, only muted by the outside. Shadow Black functions like cotton in the mouth, between the gums and cheeks, against the throat—a certain plugging. Visibility is having a throat and tongue. An unencumbered mouth. To be seen.
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