He writes of family
Of slaves, of plantations
It is what he knows of
Where his first formative self
Is locked away
I write of lost love
Of lust, of heartbreak
It is what I knew of
Where my later formative self
Was cuffed, was caged
In truth I don’t actually reach him
He does not respond to my change of words
Also, to be truthfully honest
I misinterpreted his first poem
I put way too much of someone other in there
