Jefferson Carter


Land of the Pharaohs


I like being called “brother”
by black men. I like walking past
Land of the Pharaohs
& being invited in by the brothers
to bless them with a poem.
“Brothers, ” I say, “brothers,
please, no keyboards, no congas,
let me lay something white & uptight
on you brothers.” I recite my poem
about Martians & Geiger counters,
its conclusion an ironic invitation
to Jesus to drop by some morning
for coffee. They hate it.
The brothers hate it
but they’re polite, not like Kerouac
at the Living Theater,
heckling Frank O’Hara
or the Academy Awards audience
mocking poor Sally Fields
when she said “You
like me! You really do
like me! ” The brothers forgive me
as they’d forgive a flying nun
who alighted among them
& roosted, preening, while a brother
recited his hip-hop poem called
“Kill the White Muthafuckers.”

Submitted: Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Topic of this poem: racism


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