Old Glory, a poem

Old Glory

Old Glory? Oh. No.

Chattel still.

Handcuffs are the new chains 

As racism reigns

and stars rain

Down as you stomp out their breath

and beat their heads

Until they are dead

Red

The lashes across skin, bleeding fresh

Red, white, and blue-black

Eyes puffy and bruised,

Used

to seeing this shit

Again and again and again.
A gain ever? Never.
Scars and bars forever.

Heavens.

To Betsy, you didn’t know.

You were sewing a shroud

For all their kin.

How well it covers up all that sin.

And patriotic permits
on uniformed arms
To bear arms,
With license to kill,

Shoot at will,
Choke until still.

Dear white people,

Oh say, can’t you see?
This is not everyone’s land of the free.

You fly that shit in our face 

And then not want us to take a knee?

Glory, glory, hallelujah...