The Blood Beneath Our Floorboards
        On March 18th, 2018 Stephon Clark is killed by police.

A tweet from 2015 resurfaced; Dark bitches bring dark days.
I'm sorry you felt that way.

I'm sorry you didn't know your worth and although most
black folks won't admit it,

if I can be honest I didn't either, once. So I'm sorry for the growth
you were never allowed

to have, although that doesn't excuse what you said. And I don't know
if a black woman ever hurt you,

or made you cry, but I'm sorry if one ever did. I'm sorry no black
man or woman ever told you

how beautiful you were. We tend not to see it in ourselves most times,
so I'm sorry you never saw it

in yourself before you died. It probably wouldn't have kept you
here but it might've helped

the rest of us catch our breath a little sooner, war a little softer, kiss
each other a little warmer

but instead you opened this lock box filled with shredded blood stained
fabrics we've kept below

the floorboards and couldn't give to Goodwill,
but secretly we enjoyed the carnage; the blood of African Booty

Scratchers, of Redbones, of I have Indian
in my family, of Good Hair, of I'm not trying to get any darker, You're pretty

for a black girl, You're ugly
for a light skin, the blood of Why you talk so white & You must want

a white woman, of Dwight around
your lips, the blood of Talented Tenths, New Negroes & #blackexcellence.

But none of it even matters now because you'll never get to kiss
your black boys or your black boys'

black boys, but god how you might've been if only black people
would have just kissed you more.

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Copyright © 2021 James Jabar All rights reserved
from Whatever Happened to Black Boys?
Texas Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission