When it comes
(and make no mistake—
        it’s coming)
which way will I go?

Whose bullet will send
my life
choking and bubbling
up from my chest in the filth
of some unknown,
but silently waiting, street?
My pale skin and
        thin lips
alienate me from my
people.
They are suspicious of
my claim to
        blackness.
They gaze into my pale
blue eyes
and they know that I have
never danced
        naked and gleaming with sweat
under a velvet African sky.
But my soul screams
against an alliance with
        you.
I am Black inside myself
and I hate you,
        for with your whiteness
and your power
you have destroyed me.