__________by Rebecca Strait

I hate your guts
so entirely so much
but when I look at your ass
it has a life of its own...
It has nothing to do, whatsoever,
with anything about my hatred, total disgust,
disregard, or ambivalence towards you.
It speaks on its own, breathes on its own,
moves and sways on its own, sits
so incredibly round, tight, and cute
in those white khaki's that you wear,
the one's that you wore tonite
when you strutted ahead of me, your long
jet black loc's lying so softly
up against your back, your neck...
god, I hate your guts
I hate how fine you are
how sassy you walk, how just the mere sight
of your ass can make a sistah fall
back in love with you.
Damn, you good....
I mean, girlfriend, did you know you was good?
So good as to leave this scar
and imprint on my heart, this permanent brand
on my now changed and changing sexuality,
my own concept of reality?
I have continuously let you go,
yet you constantly reappear
as if by magic or Divine Order
back into my life, reminding me
that there is beauty in forgiviness,
in mutual attraction without fear,
and, more importantly, in unconditional love.

Copyright © 2001. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.