self
Paint my portrait in a thousand words,
In every color of my poetry.
Discard every tale you’ve ever heard
Of the perspectives that misrepresent me.
When I was little, people used to tell me that I had big hands, you should play basketball.
They would tell me so often in fact
That one day, I started to believe them
Until I asked my construction worker mom:
“Mommy, mommy, mommy could I be a basketball player?”
To which she said “No way!”