I
see you,
from I
see
little
black boy
forty years, a
you
gender
barrier,
and a race away
fall
G.,
their fire horses
mj^
^^
.
and
still,
^^
too
much much
^^^
too
walk on now,
O^
r^
one hundred pounds per square inch is turning your mocha skin bloody red
^ I^T
^ h
pummel your quivering bodyp-
the water pressure ^
P^
still
the color for for
you you
is
too
much
to eat in their restaurants to ride in their busses,
their sidewalks, drink
after everything has
too
much
from
their fountains
changed,
color
for most white folks to be your baby too
let their
baby
girls
your body tumbles over the rough pavement thrown around by the relentless needles of water as if mere water could wash away your humanity disguise their cruelty, bleach the truth yet you don't seem to feel the pain more than water, hatred grinding you against the curb
they watch, laugh, loosen their
mock
ties
their little marionette
even then, could you hear over your mother's prayers, your sister's screams, the water's thunder even then, could you hear the crescendo the muffled sound of freedom's coming ring? thank you, puppet boy your grimace has become our song poetry Winner -
(tie)
Jennifer Peiter
