Water in the Basket

How many more shades of grey

must we palette, canvas, scratch—

away // tears—through just to leave 

noire squares? Yet purple hearts bleed true  

and the news stay makin niggas mama cry

since it’s their sons resting under the cruel,

white blanket. 

So I wonder how many more Marches  

and candles must we light before 

our revolution is immortalized in amber