Daily Archives: September 12, 2016

Copper Mouthed Morning

staring up from bed with
no desire to rise

a copper mouth morning

feeling no joy
at that taste 

remembering instead
ancient flavors of mint
of good tea

old memories 
fading

it has been 
industrial within
for so long
can’t recall
such shades of green

when this
copper mouthed morning
has its own hue

color of statuary
of gutters and lurid puddles
under bad pipes

lying here
in ruins
with no longing to rise
into that kind of green

trying to recall
green tea

mint

promise


Being Lied To

A curtain pulled back
reveals the lie

that there is
an outside. I know

better.  All there is
is an inside — this view of

a “window”
is an extension of

that lie.  It suggests
an exit may be possible

when in fact all there is
is more of this cell.

Now a “door”
is being “opened.”

Even as I step through into
alleged downpour

or supposed
scalding sun, I am

being lied to: nothing
of the false outside

touches me here,
centered in cold stone

and lockdown.
This is

my weather, climate,
forecast. There is

no other — I’ve been
outside to see and

there is no outside.
None. You can

stop. Just stop —
I don’t like being lied to.

After all these years
I know:

there’s no window
and no door.


A Teachable Moment

Yes,
I considered it an insult
when you called me “White;”

not so much because
you knew my father and
my mother and knew otherwise,

not so much because
it was not the first time 
we had spoken of this,

not even because
of those times
when I see myself

and say to myself
“ah, there 
I go
being more White than not…”

and in those moments I see
my incomplete nature, recognize
that I am what

the genocide desired 
most of all, see myself
as the hated objective —

no. No,
I considered it an insult
because you so clearly

meant it
as
a compliment.