my dream is fading faster than i can move this pen:

*

a wild child, not feral

who runs into rooms laughing

she talks back to adults

pulls off yellow tablecloth to use as cape

sending a few items flying to the floor

and screams loud at potential violators

lil pretty Black girl, curious, inquisitive

non-self conscious nor self-preoccupied

wild

a bane to other adults

i defend her against those angry at her

they say, “i don’t know how you can put up with that child,

she’s a terror.”

i simply say,

“you don’t see what i see.”

she gravitates to me

and lets me tell her stories

her yellow tablecloth around her neck

she leans back on floor pillows,

dusty knees splayed

and watches me attentively

with appraising eyes

Anima’s frowns and smiles

ride the bends of my voice

weighing my words with my worth

ever in rotation

she’s only 6-8 years old

a chocolate drop

kinky black hair in pigtails

that refuse the hot comb

and see chemical scalp burns

for their lies

*

is she me — my little girl, lost?

or finally found?

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