POETRY

Slave Boy

Came to my home with a hat and boots.
Slept in my house; I gave up my room.
Asked for my name; He called me marooned.
Wondered why I’m Black. He stared at my food.
Laughed with my Dad, then showed him his tools.
Gave Mama a mirror, Her smile did glow.
Harmless like a fly, his skin sure shone.
Seemed to be nice, Unknown to us he’s a crook.
His friends are in the bushes and they’re ready to shoot.
Killed my father in his sleep and spat on him too.
Pointed the barrel to my mama. He made me a slave boy.

Editorial Acknowledgments

Thank you to Jarrod Wetzel-Brown for their inspired edits on the piece.

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