4 of 4 in a series of short stories inspired by Nina Simone’s Four Women.

My skin is brown
My manner is tough
I’ll kill the first mother I see
My life has been rough
I’m awfully bitter these days
Because my parents were slaves
What do they call me?
My name is Peaches

– Nina Simone

She picked me up with hands full of holes
Her arms were heavy with fat and muscle
Eyes dull, dry, smiling

I ran from their hunger
From those smothering arms
From the rough plains of her hands

I live in the sun
Pulled by it’s gravity into the sky
Everything else shrivels

Feminine voices, skitter and yowl
Stockings rip and heels break
Full of gravel and salt

The sun is alone in it’s meditation
In its daily rounds from horizon to horizon
Burning away the clouds

I yearn for this intensity
The singularity and clockwork regularity
So I soak in the brightness, everyday.

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