I was known for an
operatic clear of throat;
a Flemish tenor.

My father died
before he could tell me
that your lungs fill
and you drown in yourself
as your heart fails.

My sister died
silent with the knowledge
that you taste the waste
your kidneys can't expel
as they slowly shut down.

My brother died
within the shell washed up
by the rolling tide of blood
from the bursting of
cerebral arteries.

My mother died
desiccated, emaciated,
her bitterness consumed
in the uncontrolled growth
of her cancerous sweetbreads.

One never lives
until they learn for themselves
the lessons of the lives
the histories and the deaths
of their inheritances.

Even twenty years ago
I wouldn't have
stood a chance.

I once worked the sign
at the intersection
of Facebook and HelloPoetry.
All those years when
secure in my job,
flush with cash,
I'd not meet the eyes
of those who muttered
"thank you, sir"
on those rare occasions
when a crumpled dollar
fell from my hand into theirs.
So I now tell on myself
to bleed the shame
from the arrogance,
never knowing the courage
it takes to look the privileged
in the eyes and ask for help
until I stood on the corner
clothed only in my naked need.

Thinking your feelings?
Try tasting with your earlobe...
wrong ***** is used.

having exchanged
three days of life
suspended together
between realities
my life is richer
and poorer
three days impossible
without the forty
years apart
forty forging years
that hammered us
mellow and malleable
to fit comfortably
in conversation
and silence alike.

Rename a street
and believe you've
preserved a man's memory.

Close government down
for a single day each year
and dream that you are
perpetuating freedom.

Remember first and foremost

that

until every human being
is free in heart and mind
from the tyranny of color

two men
murdered
nineteen hundred and
thirty-five years apart
were killed
in vain.