When I was Black
I had a tear
That swept
Beneath the skirt
Of the ocean
It lays in rest
With the souls of Black folkx
Who knew
What survival might cost
When Breonna Taylor slept
In dreams of a family
In arms of a lover
In shelter
In alarm
Woke
To bullet pounding
Info terror propaganda
Whistle blower PD parties
Black woman lost to the whims
Of a thirsty media demon
Fed with likes and sad faces
And a people too tired and hungry to stand up
When Black men search for birds
Their phones should be fully charged and live camera capable
They should always beware of unknown white women
With god complexes
And should never attempt to correct them in any way
Lest they end up like Christian Cooper
Lest they want the noose
When we don’t mourn
A cop kneels firmly on our neck
And a no-knock
Carries us down the river
To ol’ massuh’s house
Where the sun don’t shine
And the bees don’t buzz
And ain’t no way to know
What it means to be Black
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