Mya Matteo Alexice

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wild how I am created and undone
by each discerning eye—the creep
at the pet store clocks me as boricua,
sees my pidgin skin as proof of kin,
thinks this will coax a flirty response.
my stepfather is the color of midnight,
dark like the cosmos or god. he sees
me as family, regardless of the paper 
bag test and our respective results. 
when we are out together I hope 
people think I am his child, too. 
my mom and me, that one’s easy. 
the realtor says we look exactly the same 
but I’m mixed with … something 
else. sometimes I trace the slope
of my negro nose, rounded like
a drum. you can find my ancestors
in the kitchen at the back of my
scalp. nestled like knots. plaited
bloodlines unwind at my neck.
on the sidewalk, I empty 
meager offerings into
a man’s styrofoam cup.
he laughs—come on, white girl,
I know you got more than that.