1968

The year I was born,the world cracked open

to reveal a new language.

New words that cut myteeth in ridges.

Words handcuffed my wrists,bound my hands,dropped me to my knees.

These words were hatchedin January,

cut their eye teeth in MemphisIn April—

tattooed themselves onto my tonguewhen I droppedfrom the womb of December.

These words stackedside by side,built a prison wall.

My mother packed themin my lunchbox.I devoured thembetween two slicesof Wonder Bread.

Do not tell meracism does not exist.

It told me bedtime stories,collapsed before melike Humpty Dumpty.

Sometimes I wakedreaming of the child I wasstill tumbling.