The yellow bandana settled
loosely around his temple
dreads banding together
yielding tightly formed thoughts

one strand slipped in two that nettled
narrowed eyes as my lips said so simple,
Tu aimes les femmes qui es noire ?
haze emitted his mouth in sputtered dots

strands cut across the heavens –
laid foundation on the ocean’s floor
two became three and three became four
his cracked crown seeped into golden-soiled spots

bridged pieces cut into my sole – petaled
words offered a prayer as I crumpled