the great experiment.

bats swung at eerie whipsers
in the corridor, dirtier than
the box of crayons spilled 
on the floor, but we are
shedding our skins and burdens
with brothers and crosses burning
in the courtyard.
somethings gone wrong
from the cotton seed
with backs bent and sun beating
at hidden intentions of the
all american dream

they are falling in mississippi
muds, clinging to prayers and
institutions...trying to kill
a greedy mosquito congregation
heard they walk on the same side
of the street now, come a 
long way from barefooted feet.

and we shed our skins
with burdens, and crosses are burned
in the niggers' yard and we were
just playing with the national
anthem...singing it backwards and
selling the vacancy in our hearts
when we go to the ball park
watching them swing
at the american dream...feels good
to watch the young boys play
and even then it's a long walk
to the stadium
for a beer and a hot dog
but we come
to watch them run in circles
jumping hurdles
so we can kill this thirst
at the waterfountain
and maybe even catch
that american dreaming.

13 April 1997

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©Denise Angela Cleste