if the terrorists were black
but the terrorists wore black
to cover white bodies
when they stormed the white
house guns in hand and armed
i stand at my kitchen counter
as goosebumps crawl up my skin
my bullet holes are my skin
the place white america inflicts
its terror through the television
and the news and the people who
shouted things at me when i campaigned
for clinton and this state with its
white flag-toting people shouting at me
from the overpass
not even in my car driving to meet
friends a client or my lover am i safe
but the terrorist they wore black
for skin like cops wear blue for skin
under my skin there is only black
black black black black…


Flose LaPierre

Personal essays, short fiction, poetry, and experimental creative content. https://www.letitflose.com/

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