Dear America
it practically leaves me speechless: this retrograde that renders you blind
American the beautiful—this happens under your name time after time
that’s what I am talking about
that’s what I am talking about
tell me when I can stop on one hand counting black faces
in movies set in the glistening metropolis—tell me why it’s normal
that is what I’m talking about
that is what I am talking about
listen up: I am not them or other a mob or color
the only pronouns that fit are: I and me personally
that is what I’m talking about
when I want you to hear
look at your reflection in the mirror—own your mistakes
do you have the constitution for it?
that is what you hear
when I’m talking
say it is not all right (alright) not right to push the laws back
when half of the real story has yet to be told
talking about that
talking shade
can you hear me America?—the same old same old
all this chaos and no disorder not for sale
can you hear me
talking at you?
how many died to get us here: boys dead girls disappeared
sheets wearing suits—the rest weeping when the horsemen come
I’m talking about
who’s not
talking, America
Colleen J. McElroy lives in Seattle, Washington. Winner of the Before Columbus American Book Award for Queen of the Ebony Isles, McElroy’s poetry books include Here I Throw Down My Heart (finalist for the Milt Kessler Book Award, the Walt Whitman Award, the Phyllis Wheatley Award, and the Washington State Governor’s Book Award) and Blood Memory (finalist for the 2017 Paterson Poetry Prize).Read poetry by Colleen J. McElroy previously appearing in Terrain.org.
Header photo of the stars of the U.S. flag by tookapic, courtesy Pixabay. Photo of Colleen J. McElroy by Rachel Eliza Griffiths.
