sometimes the sticky-sweet of baltimore air
is a little too much
and screws pop loose like
bullets out of guns
back before the ghetto,
there was a white man who came here
married his cousin, went crazy
nevermore, nevermore
but now the park were he used
to play as a child is a public housing project
where the only poetry is that of puff-puff-pass,
chalk outlines peeling and melting in the midday sun
and a child who speaks to his murdered brother underneath his breath
as he pulls the trigger on his very first gun
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
sometimes the sticky-sweet of baltimore air
is a little too much
and screws pop loose like
bullets out of guns
back before the ghetto,
there was a white man who came here
married his cousin, went crazy
nevermore, nevermore
but now the park were he used
to play as a child is a public housing project
where the only poetry is that of puff-puff-pass,
chalk outlines peeling and melting in the midday sun
and a child who speaks to his murdered brother underneath his breath
as he pulls the trigger on his very first gun
