Racists

“Oh, don’t kill my baby and my son.

You can stretch my neck on that old river bridge,

but don’t kill my baby and my son.”

 – Lyrics by Woody Guthrie

Racists are the ones no one acknowledged

who planted hedges

separating neighbors from one way

neighborhoods without mirrors

bibles twisted into nooses dangling

dark     paths elusive as law

cowards hidden beneath bed

sheets     swinging in wind

only bones bleached white

are safe at last

— t. l. cummings

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