my intent
was for this to be squeaky clean
content acceptable for any poetry contest
or submission to any literary magazine
edible
palatable
safe to enjoy like cotton candy
make your foot tap to Miles Davis
snap your fingers to Cab Calloway
or WC Handy
this
was supposed to make you nod your head
and blankly agree to any wrong doings in the world
your neighborhood
your country
I tried to make this politically correct a
middle of the aisle
place a token in your hand
ready to insert
as you glide through subway turnstiles
this
was supposed to make the cashiers happy
when you get to front of the checkout line
with correct change
as you blindly observe insurrections
injustices
and never once think it strange
the intent of this thing
listening to you speak
and take it all in as fact
I use great internal restraint
‘cause my parents taught me how to act
this poem
is to slow down at the corner
and stop at the red light
to smile at every angry customer
because every customer is always right
but I gotta digress
my body sweats head to toe in hot flashes
still wincing and writhing from the pain
of the plantation slave master whip lashes
ancestorial poets reach out to me
insisting that my pen records all the ugliness I see
no half stepping in any word or line
there is no such thing as safe poetry
so
I digress...

