TUXEDOS AND CADILLACS
Abuela’s father would tell her
he only liked two things
black: tuxedos
and Cadillacs
My father said boys once whipped him
and his sisters as they walked
home from school,
spat ‘niggers’ at them
between belt lashes so hard
his sister left soaked in piss and tear
Schoolkids deemed me black,
or brown but not black,
or Spanish, light bright, black enough
or nowhere near
My brother told me ‘we black,’
sagged his pants and balled at the park
16 months older–decades ahead
in decoding his face
The mirror once whispered to me brown,
not black. Stared me down looking nothing
like a tuxedo
or a Cadillac