Pliant in the best sense,
Putty in the worst way.
Strength in this not quite chocolate surface.
Strength in these prescription lenses.
There is strength in a curve.
In curved bone that holds marrow.
In curved spine that holds 110 pounds
Like a palm tree leaf's flimsy midrib holds its leaflets.
There is strength in being divided in two, yet still being caught somewhere in the middle.
Being torn by the glue that holds you together.
Being born a swirl of two distinct personalities, only to have them sour inside of you as they sour externally.
There is strength in trying to stay sweet.
In trying to remain caramel-toffee surface
As the sugar burns and bitters within.
The strength in these roots,
In this scalp,
In this melanin,
In this calypso rhythm that my heart thumps
That never slows or ceases.
The strength of caramel-toffee-sugarcane.
The calculated grace of slow-spilling molasses.
The licorice cotton field of nighttime sheep's wool.
The muscle it takes to hold it all.
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