I had never
in my 25
breast-feeding
coconut-cracking
calabash-painting
palm-wine-swigging
years
asked
Why I am Black

So
you can understand
how silly I felt
when
a little boy
of fair hue
and straight
hair
asked me
Why I am Black

I looked
at his new eyes
brown like mine
and said
simply -
because I don't know;
God wanted you
to ask me
that is
Why I am Black