letter from the other daughter of the confederacy

 
Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate princess. emblem of truly a new dirty south. a new rag for all the wiping swiping of blood dazzled sidewalks. trees bent heavy heaving beneath black claws tigers and bears. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate concubine. sashaying a room draped in rope teeth dried phalanges pulsating throats electric shocked eye sockets. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate dominatrix. razor blades strapped beneath my armpits. whips growing like hair across your ribs. your mothers’ mothers’ mother raising out of a hellbox to reclaim her name. the last of a savage cave tribe buried alive beneath a southern mansion crest. your fathers’ fathers’ father does not wince in his grave. he’s known other black confederate dominatrix. claimed flagpoles to pleasure her demands. swallowed birth certificates census reports bibles to pleasure his own demands. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate trophy. hidden inside mahogany carved beds. hidden inside crystal flutes. hidden inside a meadow of thistle. hidden inside the elbow of an oak that knows everything everyone. or inside an owl’s nest just a throw from the slave auctioneer’s voice. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate lover. bite me bite me bite me. while an entire continent roars back upon your back. our daughters are not your daughters our daughters are not your daughters our daughters are not your daughters. let them be. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate secret. i am the names of smothered babies in the hands of mammies so black they startle the night they steal from. i am the names of all the daughters grinding and sifting gris-gris into your soup. i am the name of every womb you poisoned. i am the name of all your weariness. all your fear. all your disease. all the death i hold back from you. i am the life of the hundred thousand nightmares that hold you hostage to sunlight. Could i. Would i. have been your black confederate truth once upon a black confederate lynching book. i am all the names of all the names of black skin becoming stardust. floating black snow falling all over the porcelain nakedness of your white confederate mistress. confederate black snow falling on the tongues of your white confederate children. black confederate skin tucked inside their pockets for good luck. i am the name of the belt you tighten around your white confederate waist woven from my black confederate skin. Could i. Would i have been your black confederate anthem. a princess without a country. the other daughter of the confederacy. sewing bullets inside bible pages. wrapping swords with crushed red velvet. dancing knives beneath war skirts. i am this other daughter of your confederacy. standing bone to bone to bone to bone to all the other confederate daughters. eating the stars falling from your eyes that could not bear witness to your other daughter of your confederacy. i am that daughter. bleached bones. rotating eye sockets. searching upside down for stolen birthrights. shackled starlight. and the indescribable taste for freedom.

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