Little Black Boy


how to count reason: i

refuse to believe in the dream -

tugging at the seams of exclusion, we

unravel thread in

a desperate attempt to

make sadness refundable and exotic


Black is not

because the police are are are

have always been

using batons and prisons to remind us

that we we we

the slave labor backbone of history

the united states of them

we do NOT own america


so call us by a different name

that is not as pungent

as the stink of colonialism,

that is not as suffocating

as the viscous nature of greed,


the american dream

is a product

that i cannot afford to buy

what if

the Little Black Boy

did not know why?





what if history told

Black women that

they are soldiers?


standing hip to hip

on the front-lines

of a cotton field


a picket line


oh how weary am i

that they should

erase me


oh how invisible am i

that they should

ignore me


on tip-toe at a rally


never have we been given

access to truth


they had us shouting ‘freedom’

from the back of a nigger wagon

sweeping up broken spirits

from the floor of the county jail

they restricted how we measure success

but we we we

do not know how to fail

and we we we

are familiar with the cyclic nature of struggle

our skin has always been bloody

our hands have always been crooked and calloused

have we even begun to heal


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© 2018 by D. Inez "Z" Bell