*Excerpted from a longer work entitled, “Who Taught You How to Love?”. Written during this rage filled summer of 2014.
The politics of love:
blue veins opening to reveal
Bleeding red dessent.
Child, your rhythm is a bludgeoning.
And so I watch you,
Gleefully beating out your message on stolen drums.
I love you like a mother
who has no safe harbor to hold you upon.
I love you like the child
having only known violence
claws instead of grasping
I do not know how to be gentle with myself
And so I cannot be gentle with you, America.
Nor do I want to.
You, who built your crumbling fortress walls with
blueprints stapled to the chests of those Africans
Who labored and contracted and birthed
Though they would never find rest
On the earth they spilled blood on.
Peeled back the angry soil
soothing the bitter earth
To plant your seeds
To grow your too rich meals
To cultivate your grand addiction-
Sweet with empty release.
Sweet sugar baby,
You are a fleeting joy.
Still we be ready to die for you:
A land where freedom wafts through you
Quick as wet cotton candy
Quick as crack cocaine
Quick as innocent flesh
meeting molesting greed
With only the hope of return.
Reality, a kicked in door.
A dream that will never come.
A dream that wakes you
in the night like a bomb.
Wakes you like the blasts on
Black Wall Street
Detroit in ‘67
LA in ‘92
When Martin was killed
When Malcolm was killed
When Medgar was killed
Blast blast blast
like the jailhouse doors
that slam shut behind
Blast blast blast
Like the bullets into
Wakes the like the broken bones
Of young bodies in Rikers Island
Wakes like bomb dropped on Osage avenue
like the bomb dropped on Attica!
Can you hear me above the crackling echo?
Erasure is threaded into the fabric of your flag
You wave it seductively.
And I want to love you,
Baby, I want to love you
But it’s hard to see your beauty
above the gas, the ruptured flesh, the flames.
I cannot see your beauty for the blood in my eye,
the explosions in my chest,
the mercy you fail to spare.
So for now, my Love wears combat boots
leveling a machete and a shovel
To excavate the deep divides you form at your core.
I hope I uncover truth and treasure.
With a sharpened edge I rip from root
All that strangles your heart
leaving you numb with narcissistic fantasies
absorbed in your own glorious details.
I will find you.
I will find, who you can be
And maybe then
we can talk about
Copyright Piper Anderson 2014Read more →