Monkeyman

There is a strange man attached to my backbone
who thinks he can sap me or break me
if he bleaches out my son my water my fire
if he confuses my tongue by shitting his symbols
into my words.

Every day I walk out of my house
with this curious weight on my back
peering out from between my ear and my shoulder
and each time I move my head
his breath smells like a monkey
he tugs at my short hairs
trying to make me look
into shop windows
trying to make me buy
wigs and girdles and polyutherane pillows
and whenever
I walk through Harlem
he whispers—”be careful—
“our nigger will get us!”

I used to pretend
I did not hear him.