#wowps 2016

Back home, no one ever talks to the bride. So I thought I’d try something new, thinking I could break tradition.

Hatred was the only meal supplement they had that would make their sons grow as strong as the spinach they couldn’t steal from their landlord’s stores.

You don’t know my God. You and mine ain’t on speaking terms.

Now ain’t that shit funny? Not funny, ‘haha,’ but more like ain’t it funny how no one ever says assailants cry consent when they inhabit a body no rent.

How can she say Jesus was a white man when he died the blackest way possible; with his hands up, with his mother watching.

I need to know that if they die, it is not while doing bad things, because then the are the forgotten.

I painted over the walls, I wrote the poems, I shook your goddamn boots. Now you want out?

I will not mourn that justice was served to you, I will only keep demanding that the white versions of you get what you got.