(2/30) Caricature

The prompt for day two over at NaPoWriMo: write a poem that plays with voice. The point is just to play with who is speaking to who and how…


I am a zombie 

in living skin,
the color of plague;
my presence is scourge
but still I smile wide 

like a pickaninny to protect
massah’s psychological safety.

You ever look in the mirror
and see nothing but shackles
and lips and blood
and whip marks?

Can you feel the ghost
of plantation horrors
crawling behind your eyes?

One never knows
the pain another goes
through or how much
anguish can hide behind

clenched teeth imprisoning
the rage of ten thousand
sorrows.


© 2018 Abruvanamedsly



Pickaninny


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