this
is a poem for all the black men
whose
lives are cordoned by white fear,
those
who sit well away from whites
on
trains and buses
to
avoid the flicker
of
sideways glances, the unconscious
tightening
of muscles. this is a poem
for
all the black men whom whites
are
afraid to hire or promote
or
rent to or sit next to, who see
the
fear feed the crime that is repeated
as
a reason for the fear. this is a poem
for
the picture-perfect black high school student
who
sat down facing me, two seats away,
in
a half-empty train car. he folded
his
quilted red and black coat
carefully
in the empty seat beside him.
"Excuse
me," he said, "Do you mind
my
sitting here?" in a voice
barely
above a whisper.
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