say it with your whole black mouth: i am innocent & if you are not innocent, say this: i am worthy of forgiveness, of breath after breath i tell you this: i let blue eyes dress me in guilt walked around stores convinced the very skin of my palm was stolen & what
sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox
the bullet was a girl
the bullet is his whole life.
his mother named him & the bullet
was on its way. in another life
the bullet was a girl & his skin
was a boy with a sad laugh.
they say he asked for it—
must I define they? they are not
monsters, or hooded or hands black
with cross smoke.
they teachers, they pay tithes
they like rap, they police—good folks
gather around a boy’s body
to take a picture, share a prayer.
oh da horror, oh what a shame
why’d he do that to himself?
they really should stop
getting themselves killed