An Antiphon for Malcolm X

I helped murder little Emmett Till,

gouged the unaccounted eye out,

castrated his plump carcass

and sank the flaccid Negro corpse 

along the depths of the Tallatchie

in the name of all that is white,

and therefore sacrosanct.

With cross hairs aligned

I held my breath, before I pulled the trigger

on that baleful afternoon in Memphis,

dethroned the King

in the name of manifest destiny, or perhaps

divine providence.

After all, no one n****r should have all that power.

Who taught me to hate myself?

Who endowed me with this perverse inclination

to an evil as American as apple pie?

A moral code decreed by melanin, 

hypocrisy so cruel

it brings lucidity to the American Dream

And what do I have to show for my hatred, 

but my passive domestication

my collared shirt assimilation

and my eurocentric education

and my surprising articulation

and my cultural molestation

and my historic degradation

and my illusory emancipation.

Reviews

[L.Edward]

Wow! Impressively powerful, haunting and visceral. This is totally going on my favourites list. You have a very rare and uncompromising talent.

[stellasautelle]

Well written. :)