Monday, April 02, 2012

Poem 2 of 30 - April 2012

a full 40oz beer is tossed from a passing car and lands at my feet

and its roar is deafening – glass

and beer everywhere – night

and an incredible sadness

and Trayvon Martin is still

on everyone’s lips tonight

and I’m wearing a dark blue hoodie

and the people in the car can’t know

what color I am or even

that I’m there – pushing

as I am on my bicycle

and I don’t know many days

what the logarithms of rage

and so many people given

so much permission

to hate

a man says call me

a racist but I couldn’t care

as much about the character

because they made her black

which means


has given him a history – too

and an unyielding right to count

my body expendable When

did I become less

mournable? Who

mounted me such a mule –

human whose death is unremarkable

and for whom no one waits

at home as I pedal on through

the cloakish night which everyone knows

now after Sanford, Florida

adjudicates nothing in favor

of black bodies – enter lynch

cliché here – which is to say

it is possible for my death

by mob to be so unremarkable

as to not be shocking

or newsworthy – my mother

my woman should learn

expect even to veil themselves

in black lace shame

on them for even wanting me

to star in my own life – to return

home triumphant and drunk

with my God-given right

to the darkness and the streets

and this is what I pray

to sometimes – what is God-

given what I know

is my burden tonight – this

Palm Sunday as I come

celebrated into the Calvary

of my own personal black history

expecting what the Father has laid

out for me – sure death by mob

who hurls invective and missile

who say black can’t possible

be rooted for – who will deny

who will say their hands

were tied – who gets paid

for my death everyday

who knowing me already

convicted touches the hem

of my garment says nothing

and is made


To schedule a reading or an appearance please contact Ofer Ziv at Blue Flower Arts at 845-677-8559 or email


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