Her white self breathing as hard as your black self.
Her crystal blue gazing into your dark brown,
both giggling at the dreary sky
above you.
Her white self pulls your black self to stand.
Strong, like two oxen standing as tall and as firm as each other.
You sit her down to do her hair.
Fine, silky strands run through and over your fingers,
like strangers visiting a foreign land.
But she laughs.
A laughter that echoes through the room,
a laughter reminiscent of the childhood you spent together,
a laughter that is shared now with your black children,
and her white children.
The sun sets for the evening,
and for a moment, you glimpse the universe
through the clearing clouds.
Your white dress contrasts her black dress,
as your black skin contrasts her white skin.
Unashamed,
you both carry your children outside to lay on sodden grass
as the sky opens up and the stars form shapes you instantly recognise.
They shine down on you, mirroring your ethereal beauty,
and just as quickly as they came,
they are gone again.
The clouds swell and weep.
Your black coils cling to your black skin
as you dance in the rain
with your white family.
Her white hands cling to your black hands and you spin each other
around
and around
and around
and around
in circles
until you collapse in the grass.