Beloved sister of 60 million daughters.
She is the leader of the equinoxes.
Manuel feels the rotation of the planet when she stands before him a full foot of air slides between his head and hers making him
He wonders if he’ll faint.
Delphine is the kind of beautiful grandmamas in North Carolina
covered in Cal lahnas and Cackalackas dipped carefully in Lake Norman
packed chicken and bread and fruits that kept in cars that ran
for girls called gals.
Punished for looking like the kind of beauty white supremacy has hailed
Punished for looking like African subjugation has failed
“Has it?” the grandmamas asked the Delphines
“Yes” they promised climbing knees into cars headed norther than North
Beloved granddaughter of the 4th Nina Simone woman.
She is the holder of his whole sky.
Manuel feels the voice of his own grandmother whispering warm at the place where he lay ink into his neck. She reminds him of the six mountains.
“Sacred?” she asks him.
And before he can answer he realizes she is gone. He looks at Delphine.
Brown eyes focused upward pointed at him like mountains they hike.
Photo by Ricardo Esquivel on Unsplash