Wednesday, April 29, 2015

doors. a poem for Baltimore and everywhere els

they say
we brought you here to work!

This place is not yours
all fancy free
busy shutting doors

so I knock and I wait
patiently and kindly while
you have your debate

“should we?”
some say
“nay”
say others

meanwhile, we are hungry
myself, my sisters and brothers

so I knock again
this time, a little more strength
the man answered the door
looking quite tense
“Um, please go stand over there and mind that fence”
“I guess you’ve been here for a while with me...how about twopence?”
I wait and I watch
but the door remains closed
Now the windows are shut.
I go back and I pound
The door opens a crack and out come the hounds

They tear at me
I run and then I attack

I’ve had enough of knocking politely on closed doors.
I’ve had enough of this wait to get what is mine.
I’m not tricked your sweet talks, the bribes, the lines.
I’ve put away distractions, the weed, the women, the sweet sweet wine.

Why do you treat me this way?
I know it’s because I am Black.


No comments:

Post a Comment