They say brave but I don't want it. Who will we mourn today. Or won't we. Black all the windows. Lower down the afternoon. I barricade all my belonging. I am mostly never real American or anything availing. But I do take. And take what's given. The smell of blood. I breathe it in. The dirt so thick with our good fortune. And who pays for it. And what am I but fear, but wanting. I'll bite the feeding hand until I'm fed and buried. In the shining day. All deadly good intentions. A catalogue of virtues. This is how I'll disappear. Copyright © 2017 Camille Rankine. Used with permission of the author. |
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