Beneath

I've got a voice

I've got a voice-

a voice like a sword

a voice like a whip,

but when I look at your white face

I forget to use it and flush with disgrace.

I wished I had banged my fists on the table

and screamed how you were unable

to remove those gross stereotypes from your lips,

yet I allowed my anger to only drip

when there was a dam of rage boiling

beneath my black breast.

I wished I had sliced your throat

and paraded on your corpse happily,

celebrating freedom and victory

from talks of rhythms, lynching, chicken, and kool aid

and move on to the content of Langston Hughes made.

He had things to say. The content of his work was important

and you robbed him of his voice in that moment.

I've got a voice

I've got a voice-

a voice like a gun

a voice like a bat

I just wish I'd use it and fight

and stand against people like you

with all my might.