Two-Hour Pretend Black Revolutionariesby Sabrina Dawkins This is America.Donald Glover is not playing a character.He’s a real-life caricaturewho entertains them,killed the real musiciandressed in white.Programmed to “Get your money,” while kenneled in the backyardby his owner/enemy. The “genius” video by Childish Gambinowhere he only kills black people, but it’s “deep” because his fans aren’tand don’t

Top Blackface Entertainers by Sabrina Dawkins Drake wears blackface.Blackness is a commodity,bought and sold brown skinbut not on auction blocks—on flat TV screens,a bought image of sprayed-on blackness,complete with mimicked slang exaggeratedto mock the ignorance of a people innocently admiring live caricatures. And Eminem’s Elvis verse told you why they do black music. I see

Humiliation of a Circus Slaveby Sabrina Dawkins A morsel of meat, lukewarm,a trick performed,a cage in which to sleep,with bars forever shown,cages stacked atop cages. How did I get here? Sharp claws and fangs,a body three times my trainer’s size. My roar terrifies reasonable men. And yet I remainin this cage. Oh, yes, I remember.I

Demon Thoughts by Sabrina Dawkins It’s just a thought.It snuggles next to you like a fluffy cat on a winter day in front of the firewanting to cuddle. So you are comforted;it’s your own. It yawns and relaxes curled up next to your leg. So you fall asleep too. But when you awakesnake eyes glow

Easy Preyby Sabrina Dawkins The predator shows no mercy.Your cry is its sign you are weak,wounded, vulnerable, helpless. It knows no pity, only deceit and pretend concessions.

A Beautiful Way to Dieby Sabrina Dawkins I saw trash dance down the side of the roadeach time a car would pass.I saw the confident strides of a drug addict, the anesthesia having not yet worn offfrom the surgery to remove a soul. I heard laughter and saw finished smokesthrown out the front door,a beautiful

Stunted Ornamental Plantby Sabrina Dawkins One day I saw you hanging on the porchspilling over your pot and reaching for the ground. And every day since, I’ve seen youfrozen in time, reaching for freedomin that prison pot. In the shade darkness of porch,you stretch to get free. Your owners, so cruel keep you there, high

Satan’s Whores Fed Bread and Circusesby Sabrina Dawkins In a dream I saw you in the TV room, fat and dressed in black. You complained about how Satan’s real wife treats you as a slave in her late husband’s back field. But I saw you sitting cross-legged in all blackon Satan’s couch in his TV

Channeled Artby Sabrina Dawkins What is a thought? Invisible like air, ubiquitous in the head,taken for granted,one expected after the next,after the next, after the next,like breath. Air everywhere and inside,consumed every second,mostly unseenbut felt. Unseen, where does it come from?Where does it leave? (John 3:8) I wrote a poem in 2005,inspired by love. The

The Evil Word Hypnotist Spell out of Eden by Sabrina Dawkins I sat in the pew of your sanctuaryas you put me to sleep.But my eyes remained openand my body remained uprightas I stared into your eyes and at your mouthas if they were a swinging pocket watch. I absorbed your wordsand entered your worldwhile