This poem came to me like labor pains – I could space the breaths out by a stop watch – the times I had to pause and contain my hurt, and pain – inspired by sitting in the Cantab Lounge listening to Harvard Students, Emerson Students battle for a place on the “Boston” Poetry Slam team in the safety of Cambridge – within ten minutes two quasi progressive ponytailed, wild haired white poets used the word Nigger casually within in their poems and the audience – with about six other black folks, did not respond with anger or discontent. It was causally accepted. I could not sleep that night, or the next not until I birthed this poem.
I got to tell you
I have a problem
With white folks and black folks with historical/cultural amnesia
Holding the word
Nigger
Like
Sugared candies
in their paper thin, razor sharp mouths
My ears bleed resistance
And my black skin feels like a wet blanket
On my bones
Sucked
Dry by memory
Nigger
Dr Charles Drew
Laying crushed on the side of the road
His blood
Blossoming in red dirt becoming invisible
This will be
The first
Rose
To be left on his grave
Nigger
Emmitt Till
Returning to his mother
And only she
Knows his face
Beneath
The ravage
Only she can stand the scent
Of him
The rot
So thick and heavy
It can be tasted
Nigger
Martin Luther King
on a balcony
breathing deeply the warmth
of spring
yawning wantonly
her mouth wide
so enticing
you could if so inclined, lay on her flowered tongue
and dream the dreams of innocents
nigger
stands
his back to worries
struggle
inhumanity
just for a moment
nigger takes a deep breath
perhaps laughing
or praying
and feels the bullet
lightly touch the tip of his ear
it could be mistaken for a kiss
before he collapses
into a blinding light
he believes he has been stung by a bee
silly nigger
mistaking bullets
for kisses
and bee stings
Nigger
Medgar Evers
Dancing
Dangerously
Between
Justice and injustice
Misses a step
On a Southern dirt road
Masquerading as a dance floor
Now this nigger is
Curled like a lotus petal
In his
Mournful wife’ palm
Nigger
Ida b wells
Writing
The rope
From the necks
Of
Niggers
Too stupid
To stay in their place
Crossing
Shifting
Intangible boundaries
Without knowing
With
Unsure footing
Niggers
Are ripe for year long hunting
Even animals
Mourn
For niggers
Etheridge Knight
Angela Davis
Gwendolyn Brooks
Shirley Chislom
Mary McCloud Bethune
W.E. Dubois
Niggers
Niggers
Niggers
Mother
Fathers
Uncles
Niggers
Ancestors
Niggers
Are not sugared
Sweets
To be held in
In paper thin mouths
To lay dead
On dirt
Roads
Bleeding roses
To swing
As rotted
Fruit
From barren trees
Niggers
Are not
To be forgotten
Lost in
The gaps
And pockets
Of dishonorable mouths
