somebody/ anybody
sing a black girl’s song
bring her out
to know herself
to know you
‍
—Ntozake Shange

you asked me to write a song
but i keep gathering ones that ain’t mine

i wanted to write a song
but this motherfucka keeps asking if it’s his
and i don’t remember him building the time signature

i mined through my mother’s womb
like the pendulum of a metronome
the music was already there

she nurtured it until the notes got grown
the quarter notes grew into their big behinds

but now that i’m ready to claim them
and give you my song
it seems everyone else has another song

in mind for me, scraping my soft palate
for sound they can bottle up and sell

nobody asked me if i had any other plans for my sound
nobody asked me to sing what’s on my heart except you
begging for somebody/ anybody

‍i know i’m a suitable somebody, a bona fide anybody
so Zake, why won’t they let me sing the damn song?

this ain’t karaoke! i don’t need anybody
building a ballad out of my blues
when i’ve gotten so good at nursing my own

if i can’t take my song back
they’ll mistake the silence for consent
they’ll manufacture my yes

so i’m going hunting for my song
i want my shit back!
the harmonies in tact

i’ll slide the symphony back into my throat
stash the staff in between my fingers
the music lines wielded into knives

i’ll sharpen the sound waves into weapons
i’ll sing so loud you’ll hear me from there

cause i’ve been waiting for you
to hear this song,
heavy and leggy like me

half notes lathered in grief
verses oozing out the gap of my teeth
and black black black

‍i’ll prophetize my sighs
rescue my suicide from silence
sanction it into sound

i’ll make music so good
church bells will ask me for the time