Wednesday, August 26, 2015

What Jimmy Taught Me

To be yellow born into a household where the black man rules with his fists  and the white wife  body   livid   with   a devotion  hip enough to confuse  trouble with   love    or   whatever   it  was, such the  lucky  one   to come up so unamerican   ,   thankful  one   in whose imagination the  country danger is   so ambient  and precise  of   source   it vanishes    and with each departure  more affectionate    machines   pant   to run the dream between  hope    and  habit  

I wanted to say this more clearly         In what ways  did   watching  your black father beat your white mother   empower   you   as a brown   baby   ?   in  a blue    way      is  there anything   so  cruel   so    crude    as  to say   you felt   each   of your hands   in their  puppet   throats   as they screamed   for help   in   unison   but  only    one  was   hunted  for   room   within the invisible  listener

I wanted to say this more clearly       trustless of a soul  that hadn't   suffered  he tore  hers  toward him

           And I arrived as a kind of vengeance, the many versions of war worn raw by their sex, come to be as the treacherous peace of empty pacts    and broken  chessmen were scattered all over the room  

              It's like being that last person alive