Separate substance with razor blades,
and let the regime fall in line, then snort–
White goons with right hands at 45-degree angles
face the orange dipstick covered in oil
and a smoke-yellow toupee,
exuding power and certainty and judgment
upon those once weak,
and do not know of their virtue.
He wants to:
“Make America great again. . .”
Yet my greatness holds a drinking gourd
above the sweet chariot with fugitives,
passing strange fruit on familiar trees,
waiting for an angry God to trouble water.
No one knows your sorrows.