Black Queer Intersectional Feminist wrapped in poetry
A Black Horror Story
“Are you sure this is the spot?” Tariq squeaked. Standing at 6’4” and weighing over 200 pounds, he recognized that he looked absolutely ridiculous hiding behind his 5’10”, 170 pound teammate Jake, but Jake wasn’t a Black man in the middle of nowhere.
Kheniya’s feet jutted over the edge of a slender ledge as the sun blazed behind her mahogany back like an explosion of fiery wings. She was closer to the heavens than she’d ever been before standing on the highest building in the slums. The heat scraped against her skin settling in the fine black ceremonial lines that adorned her body. She spread her arms in defiance, pushing through the thickness of the air as if to scream, “Look at me”.
I W “Wine?” I hesitated. JP stood in front of me with a half full glass of red wine in his hand. He was barely taller than me with deep Cocoa skin. He had no visible scars or missing limbs. His eyes were full of kindness and warmth. A far cry from what I had envisioned an ex-child soldier would look like but even so, there he was, a glass of wine in his outstretched hands playing the good host.
- First Place in SFS 2: Death By Chocolate Challenge