White Picket Fences

i married white thinking
my mark upon their
children would be enough
to undo that one way
passage from india

instead i ended up
whitewashed, cooped up,
covered up, chained up
by little white pearls
to white picket fences

wondering how
on earth to
Eat, Pray, Love
my way through this
white curry fusion

dish made by
usually well-meaning
always better-knowing
spray-tanned
white hands

white picket fences
don’t need to be
twelve feet or higher
topped with barbed wire
to make me forget that

they don’t see color
shut out, snuffed out,
blacked out and trading
brown sugar sweet talk
for all the peace and

stillness in my head.