Twice Told

TWICE TOLD

Twice told 

I was to die

By violent hand of races

Not my own,

I ran from one,

Laughed at the other.

The Makah nation

Squeezed upon a dry reservation

Saw blood spill

And bone break of

Drunken mishap and malice.

Chill was my blood

Of random midnight calls

And the deep drunk whisper

I will kill you,

A rant

I will kill you,

I knew true one day,

One day.

And so I fled.

Two extra decades in my bones,

Out the door of the V.I.

Lookout on the world.

Swerves young black

Sideways cross the crosswalk

Slams me silly.

I turn and step and push

Him into a snarled threat:

I’ll get my gun and kill you.

I spit laughter in his face.