ODE TO SPRAY TANS
Oh orange crust of Donald Trump,
each Kardashian at home in her lavish shower,
an assistant waving a hose of tangerine mist.
Oh each bleached blond with bleached teeth
and artificial Creamsicle skin,
each businessperson with rust circling a white color,
each office dweller with no time for the pool,
each momma and poppa at risk for melanoma.
Oh each potential lover on Grindr, Tinder or Match.com
putting their best persimmon face forward,
bronzed streaks left on a stranger’s sheets.
Oh brothers and sisters, pale as clouds, weaklings
when it comes to pigment, how I have judged you.
And now I judge myself. Here comes the turn
where I should try to say something compelling
about imitation and race. But I am white.
My sunglasses and wide brims have kept me out of touch,
in a different century when blue veins were the rage.
--Denise Duhamel
