04-10-2018, 05:22 AM
Goodnight in the City
The pounding of my heartÂ
and frontal lobe
like my boots on hard black tar,
reaches a rhythm far into the long
cold night, then stalks my shadow by day
when I scrape meat from my ribs
to feed my children.
My guilt is a quilted blanket
placed upon me by white
supremacists' rage.
Yet knowing this I swaddle tighter
like a house.
Today you brought me a lentil stew
and I stirred in my tears.
Tonight we'll start the new green candle.
It'll smell
like apples
and we can read the library book
by the flickering light.
The pounding of my heartÂ
and frontal lobe
like my boots on hard black tar,
reaches a rhythm far into the long
cold night, then stalks my shadow by day
when I scrape meat from my ribs
to feed my children.
My guilt is a quilted blanket
placed upon me by white
supremacists' rage.
Yet knowing this I swaddle tighter
like a house.
Today you brought me a lentil stew
and I stirred in my tears.
Tonight we'll start the new green candle.
It'll smell
like apples
and we can read the library book
by the flickering light.