(2016/2021)
And what did I expect
going back down
South? I could walk
the side-walks. I could
look anyone in the eye.
I could swim in the pools.
I could, I could, I could, I
could…and I ate at fine
restaurants where the chef
greeted me and asked me
how my meal was, and
I ordered a simple plate
at a simple diner and not many
looked up, and the beaches
welcomed me, and the chains
of hotels on those beaches,
and not one person said
“nigra”
and did you think I wouldn’t
say it here? I went back after
saying I would never go back,
after a childhood lost
to adult brigades without
a sword or a gun, without
a bitter word or rude
glance,
like a broken saint, like a
saint with every bone
broken, I walked with a
limp,
I smiled with half my
teeth and I was ready
to die in the war
begun
before I was born. But
I could not find the
battle field. And the
field my mother as a
child would have
worked was a parking
lot. And I sat between
the lines and cried for
what I would never
have, justice. And the
tanks within me
rusted, and the bombs
imploded in what was
left. Now, what you
see is a shell. And
what I saw was a lie.
An
illusion. Knowing, like
truth is a mercy, even
when buried. You
have to know what’s
there under the balls
of your feet. But I was
still surprised when it
lifted its head like
snakes hidden in the
brush
behind a pretty house
in North Carolina’s
triangle. The landlord
said “Look out for the
copperheads” and I
should have knownthen.