I Need A Spell

I need a spell.

I need words,
a poem that will
make me whole
by filling a hole.

A hole
my dad left
when he died.

A hole
my mom won’t fill
with approval.

A hole
I must fill
with self love.

I need a spell.

I need words
that are one
with my Blackness.

Black Magic
as beautiful
as my warm, brown skin
and kinky, curly hair.

Black Magic
inherited from names
I never learned
in school.

Octavia Butler.
Nalo Hopkinson.
Jewelle Gomez.
N.K. Jemisin.

If these names have power,
then let me gain it.

Let it rise
and crash on me
like an ocean wave.

I need a spell.

I need words
that show
I was always magic.

A spark
that came to life
the moment I was born
when my body and soul
rubbed against each other
and ignited a fire.

All I needed
was a wand
to channel it,
fairy wings
to fly with,
and blue skies
open to possibilities.

Yet the fire
has turned to embers,
the wand
has been broken,
the wings
have been clipped,
and the skies
have become cloudy.

Muggles want me
to be ordinary,
but that is impossible.

If fantasy
is the impossible
made possible
then may my imagination
be written in verse.

May my imagination
be spoken in verse.
May my imagination
create a whole universe,
a whole me
with a new fire
a new wand
using old Black Magic.

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Latonya Pennington is a queer freelance writer and poet. Their poems have been featured in Linden Avenue literary magazine, Superselected magazine, and the speculative fiction anthology Scribes of Nyota. For more of their writing, follow them on Twitter