INCONGRU MAGAZINE

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Poetry

The Albescens Berry

The white man says I’m special.
He loves my albescent blackness.
He calls me an albescent berry—
almost orange.

The white man says I’m eloquent.
He says I speak like him,
that I’m not like the others.

The white man says I’m hardworking
He says I’m not like the others—
that I try.

The white man says I’m classy.
I dress like him.
I cannot tell—
if I am classy because I dress like him,
or if I dress like him because I am.

The white man says I’m intelligent.
I cut my hair—
so now books can enter.

The white man says I’m better.
I agree.
I have outrun him—
but he tells me I’m only better than my people.

What people?

The white man thinks himself the umpire—
and me a competitor.