Nothing Here

You lost me at the first line. But,
hooked me in to read another. Then,
shut me out to slam my teeth 
on your fist of brick and mortar.

I smiled through the blood and broken teeth.
Giggled really, when you pushed me 
to my knees. I’d felt enough but,
then again, I didn’t try to understand.

Now you see—you’ve done your job
admirably. You took a brute by
the scruff of his neck and instead of
drowning him, you put a mirror to his face.

Water has that quality for men: it is
the place of death. By death regained
a different face and name. Regained then 
or remembered enough to shake.

So in the water they can cry again.
Tracks on faces like a fountain pen.
Writing first the memories on their
Skins. Hides wiped clean of memory until

Only the black man cries black tears and
they are whipped and bent into shape. Now
many many are locked in chains. Now
they are stamped on the pearly gates.

Right now I’m found because they
fished me from the water and bludgeoned 
my brains onto the books. Right now I
remember more than you.