LESSONS WE LEARN ---

LESSONS WE LEARN—

I remember getting slapped

across the face with my “guardian’s” leather

belt, and as it brushed

of my face,

me of course, leaving

drool and trickles of blood

on the belt

itself.

And the belt leaving its rigid impressions

on my face,

it,

swollen, of course, til the next day.

The belt,

 itself,

being,

my “guardian’s” lesson on how a man is supposed act.

And what a man is supposed to like.

And how man is supposed to fuck.

And how a men are not to like men, but women.

I remember crying so much,

not knowing what I was doing wrong.

Barely able to catch my breath

and getting beaten as I was told to “shut the fuck up.”

A slave to the idea of a life of a typical

black

man

in the Caribbean.

Then I remember where I was…

And I remember I had to smile.

I smile now.