"Darling, Don't Be Wise," by Siri

"Darling, don't be wise. Keep your black eye closed."

Dirty dishes, dirty floor, a dirty table. That is what I see. The floor drowns in the colour of brown. My feet are drowning. And nothing happens. Nothing ever happens. But a smell appears. The smell of old alcohol hits my nose. I wish I were clean. Clean and white. Just like snow. Blue eyes. Just like the ocean. And a pink dress, just like a doll. But no. Instead you’ve got tears. Brown tears on a brown face. A dirty black face. And the smell of new alcohol and dirty dishes keeps on hitting your nose. There’s a shadow by the front door. Familiar steps by the way he walks. Stumbles. Falls. His yellow shirt lifts; his face and his black skin fill the room with darkness. One touch, and I’m down. One look, and I scream. I’m important, no more. Destroyed, yes. Unloved, yes. But now, I can finally see white.

(In response to The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison)