A River That Runs White
Sadly I miss the days
when killers sought shadows to practice their trade.
Now they’re emboldened as the devil
cause you armed them like Reagan armed his despots,
advocate of life that you are.
You tossed them guns and told them to be careful.
You say he was a threat with his bare black hands.
Maybe he should’ve walked by daylight.
Maybe he shouldn’t have walked at all.
Maybe blacks and bullets are meant for eachother;
like soulmates, can’t have one without the other.
You claim every black is murdered in Chicago.
No matter where they lie, they were murdered in Chicago;
South Side projects encoded in their DNA.
You "prove" this with your ugly smirk
and your book of stats,
once a sacrilegious ivory text
but only when it spoke of bodies piled high
in cinderblock slave-ships
or stigmatic rocks you planted in gardens
to stunt our growth.
You tossed them guns and told them to be fearful.
You armed the killers when you said
with your sickly sweet tongue
we should all be the color of water
from a river that runs white.
You hailed America’s latest and greatest
achievement: absolving our sins
with ballots. We made him and now
we can destroy him and be at ease.
And destroy him we shall, so that
the river runs white again.
You spat on hallowed ground,
and excited the killer’s soul
wiped the cataract of doubt from his eyes
yanked the muzzle from his mouth
broke the shackles on his hands
and then
You tossed him a gun and told him to be bold and brave.
