She says black isn’t a color.
Unlike the crayon color black to scrawl your name on white, perfect paper.
She says black is the absence of color.
What first catches the eye.
What triggers Seeing-in-between—the slip of space you slide into,
where you go when you are not your mind,
not your body,
not whomever you would tell another person whom you think yourself to be.
She says light blinds us.
In that perfect darkness that we mistake for sleep
a pool of bone and blood
gives birth to all there is,
and in this together,
us, they, them, it,
lives the God we long to see.