In 100 lifetimes
these chapters will
read too well
how we rang alarms
stomped tired feet
in harmony, and how
you came with
rivers of respectability
but not a molecule of water
to put out the fire
Junior warned us of
the streets ran red
with our blood
then black
with our fist,
then pink
with our tongues,
you saw how fast
these broken windows
became broken windows
for token negroes,
taking these blows
so easily
you've chose
this moment
this sonic quaking
of atonement
as brutal labor
for eardrums
that coughing.
hacking.
heaving.
y'all been hearing
are your children's children
choking on the smoke
