racism

a maddening scab
and picking at it
does nothing at all.

in the rain and stench
is there nothing left
to try?

shall we dance again
our tactile tango
of dirty guns?

a gun is nothing.
it only changes
the pain.

bullets bleed
and targets quiver
and survivors,
well, they survive,

and souls like blackbirds
and whitebirds
rise in alluring parallel.