“All my anxiety is separation anxiety. I want to believe you are here with me, But the bed is bigger and the trash Overflows. Someone righteous should Take out my garbage. I am so many odd And enviable things. Righteous is not One of them. I’d rather a man to avoid Than a man to imagine in a realm Unseen, though even the doctor who Shut your eyes swears you’re somewhere As close as breath. Mine, not yours. You don’t have breath. You got Heaven. That’s supposed to be my Haven. I want you to tell me it sparkles There. I want you to tell me anything Again and again while I turn you over To quiet you or to wake and remind you I can’t be expected to clean up after a man.” LoveDeathPoetryLossGriefPoemMourning Book:The Tradition Source: The Tradition
“When I kill me, I will Do it the same way most Americans do, I promise you: cigarette smoke Or a piece of meat on which I choke Or so broke I freeze In one of these winters we keep Calling worst. I promise if you hear Of me dead anywhere near A cop, then that cop killed me.” DeathPoetryPoemMurderPoliceSmokingPolice Brutality Book:The Tradition Source: The Tradition
“I will not shoot myself In the head, and I will not shoot myself In the back, and I will not hang myself With a trashbag, and if I do, I promise you, I will not do it In a police car while handcuffed Or in the jail cell of a town I only know the name of Because I have to drive through it To get home.” DeathPoetryDangerPoemMurderPoliceAfrican AmericansBlacksPolice Brutality Book:The Tradition Source: The Tradition
“I want you To heed that I'm still here Just beneath your skin and in Each organ The way anger dwells in a man Who studies the history of his nation. If I can't leave you Dead, I'll have You vexed.” DeathPoetryHistoryPoemAngerIllnessFrustration Book:The Tradition Source: The Tradition
