Buffalo

They killed
Us again.
In the grocery store,
Fountain that relieved
food desert status,
spot of the mundane
where death, oft imagined
need not be feared
here amid
the carrots

they say he
drove 3 hours
to reach the “replacements”
Our—for in death 
they ancestor-like,
flood our hearts,
haunt our breath,
Until we must love
them—
Ten
Beautiful Black grandmothers, and aunties,
Uncles, Fathers, anybody’s children but
God’s named,
hunted and
Slain in the marketplace. 

To the white god Mammon
they pray each Sunday
“Keep our hearts pure
pure as the driven snow—
Christ wash us clean
of the bodies whose
destruction is our mortar”
and drive from service
to condone the 
“mental illness” 
all the rage
these days

Black Jesus help us 
please.

or do they keep killing you too?

` rlw

1 Comment

  1. How long O Lord? How many times do we have to lament? Getting weary now…getting weary. Love that buffalo though

    Like

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