For Jordan

“The officer, Roy Oliver, has not been criminally charged. A police representative for him could not be reached. Jordan, along with his two brothers and two friends, were in the car when it was fired upon last Saturday. Jordan died from a fatal gunshot wound to the head, the Dallas County Medical Examiner’s Office said….

Taps

I, too, sing America.

What a cold, grisly, murderous sound.

My Brother’s Tears

They shot him twice in the stomach.
I watched him die.
He was twelve.

I Loved You Too Soon

I loved you too soon.
Like the way
school boys
dote, court and wed in between classes.

Or the way
children
latch onto any stranger
scented with kindness.

Black Boy, Run

Since babes
our feet carried us.
Awkwardly at first,
but agility is our birthright.

Strong feet, smooth as blades,
disappeared in the tall grass
behind Nana’s house–
decorated by laughter and cicadas.

Free[thoughts]

Do not fetter your dreams
because of fearing the unknown
or sudden change
or outside expectations.

For your dreams are your own.
To fulfill or to drown.

The Fallacy of the Bourgeois Black

There is no comfort in being black.
The bourgeois are not safe.
The poor are not people.
And if life is but a vapor,
then ours is a painful exhale.

Bastard

You bruised my mother’s womb
though she gave you her nectar.
You made a throne from the carcasses of my ancestors.
You made me a bastard
while forcing me to call you father.
Now, you slaughter my brothers
and expect me to stay silent.