To the black Americans who marched from Selma to Montgomery [ 07.03.1965 ]
we lived in a movie
shot in black and white in our veins,
we had an extra tinge of red
more red to bleed. more to conquer.
it was a Sunday like no other
the sun was a little sharper
as sharp as the nail in my bed
that dug into my back like a spear
let out my extra red
as we trotted through the bridge,
to the coloured part of the city
it had the same colours as we did in ourselves
yet it was the far end of the spectrum
I lost myself to the dreams of a colourless world.
walked for our franchise.
bled for our franchise.
the red on the trigger,
dripped down my forehead
the white fingers grasping at my life.
I looked up, to the sun
that was perhaps always a little sharper on us.