Poem

The Gendered Race

It sits there, waiting, baking in the sand sun

We crawl over, underneath it, take it, and run

Aching flesh yearns for its wisdom

Like droplets of honey, “come into my kingdom”-

Aching flesh it does annihilate; the vibration

Bang!-it shakes and shocks the nation

But it’s merely metal, rusted, resembles;

Something assembled by a finger that trembles

Poorly made, too bitter marmalade; expired;

Tired, ready to retire its current use;

It had seen abuse, for sure misused;

To sell an African or two; a woman or two;

Why do we love it the way we do?

For it has two sides; its divergence unmistakable

Flip it over, on a hardwood table; bet;

Make a bet, any bet; see it’s shining, incessant spotlight;

See its shining fence; did we decide which one to be?

Did we obey its results too carefully, unremittingly

It is true one is favored; to its deniers, not compliers;

Why do you worship a thing that expires?

Did you not know a body dies when it tires?


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