#1

                By Ras Baraka

My sister

Was/is

a blackgirlpoet

The way she bit her bottom lip

To the passion of her crossover dribble

To the basket

The way her pants rested on her shoes

Or her hair against her cheekbones

My sister

Was/is

Ablackgirlpoet

And she meant everything

She didn't say

So Imagine . . . when she did . . . speak

Yeah,

My sister

Was/is

A blackgirlpoet.

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