Detroit
I open the computer
It smiles at me with
Photos, news and more
I wait, patiently, stare
Faces, cheekbones and
The forms of eyes, noses
They talk to me, openly:
“I am black, mixed with
Caucasian with Indigenous
I am from Detroit…”
Detroit was built on blood
Genocide, ego, capitalism
And industry; busted now.
Silent looks are exchanged
I listen through my gaze…
Flood takes the streets
Absent from the picture
Cars roll internationally
In one Marilyn Monroe
In another J.F., Kennedy
His head splashed and…
I practice my history…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very fine write here, Nassy.