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In This Dream
by Angela Zito

I catch a good-looking black man
by the finger
 
he laid on my shoulder to get my attention.
A mistake--

he says--Thought you were somebody else
by your ink.

I say--I know how this city's covered 
in art,

but I don't have a drop of color
in me.

I grasp his finger, his hand, his arm
examining

the garden that flowers there, ripe
with grammar
 
I can't decipher though I follow its reds,
blacks & blues

into the obscurity of his shirt sleeve.
I think

to hoist myself into his arms, to peel
--slowly--
 
the clothing from his shoulders
and ask him

will he read to me each hieroglyphic
inch of skin

over and over until his colors
bleed into me.
Angela Zito holds a BA in English with Creative Writing from Albion College in Michigan. She currently lives and works in Metro Detroit, where she humbly earns her keep as a writer-slash-waitress. Her poetry has also been published in the Spring 2010 issue of Euphony.
ISSN 2157-8079
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