Chicago, December 2012

Born here, born brown,

Born pretty, born poor,

Born cold, born black;

There is no remediation.

There is no remediation,

No reconciliation,

Just retaliation:

Soldiers hit back.

The bullets

And the bullets

and the bullets

Hit babies:

Heaven Nathaniel Katana Jonylah

Marco Fedrico Jonté Kadijah –

He gettin big enough,

Boy, you almost big enough,

He almost big enough

To hit em back.

Pretty baby, laughing early,

Little boy perched on my lap,

Pinched his fingers, pulled my nose, asked

How come it stretch out long like that?

And how come you got all these – all these –

Spots?

They were freckles, I laughed.

We played.

I left. He stayed.

Leave the city, baby boy.

Take the train out of Chicago.

Keep your head down,

Hit the tracks,

Find a farm,

Find a college,

Find a father,

Find a home –

Then come back –

This is home.

In the salty cold winters the South Side smolders;

In the sweaty hot summers the South Side burns.

There is no remediation.

There is no remediation,

No reconciliation,

There is only tall enough

To stand up at the funerals,

To bear your brother’s box,

And to watch with lidded eyes,

Chain-linking the cops,

The murderer’s sister –

Don’t listen to the whispers.

She come up in here

All crying and shit?

Yeah, she gonna cry!

She big enough to die.

He almost big enough,

He big enough to be a soldier,

Boy you gettin big enough

To take your turn –

And the South Side burns.