bleach it out
it’s 1962 and color is a right of passage
it wasn’t that she wanted
to be white.
she was just ashamed
to be black.
her teacher favors
girls who are yellow.
so she thought
that if she could be lighter,
her life would change.
so for weeks,
she rubs
the cream into her face.
it burns as it mixes
with summer sweat.
but she endures
and rubs her face gingerly,
thinking to herself,
it will be lighter tomorrow.
tomorrow arrives, and the sun’s luster
shows moons on her cheeks.
but on the forehead,
around eyes
that stare at the sides
of her face, her skin
above the upper lip,
and her chin…
the chocolate stain
remains.
Dorothy Summers studied poetry at IUPUI in Indianapolis. Formerly she worked as a public affairs specialist for the U.S. Army and as an editorial assistant. She has published poetry in Flying Island and news and feature stories in national Army magazines and in newspapers in Indiana, Kentucky and Illinois.