BLACK BOOTS AND FIGS

Look at you Black Boot

Pleased to sip tea and take reprieve under my hard-earned fig tree.

String me up by my vine and bask in the shade that I provide.

Blood poisoned mustard seeds, ye of so much faith.

But when, where and how will you make them afraid?

Free to choose—now which noose?

Precious strange fruit, spilt blood on the roots.

Can’t you breathe under his black boot?

Raise chained fists silenced behind confines.

Breath stolen, crucified and splayed across thin blue lines.

Negroid suffering, meet white success.

Enslaved beast, you are the blood-covered lamb and you are meant to bless.