I wrote this poem the day after watching the 2020 Super Bowl and am sharing and self-publishing here for the first time.
Old, old, old white women, Owners, bring forth
A black child, bleached hair,
Their teams traded, stocked full,
Colored people draped in American colors,
Slavery, prowess, performance
Fox—so adept at blurring life and performance.
Zoe—unperformed, unscripted, persists.
Who watches life anymore?
Remember, only famous people can save you—
Trump saves a black woman from prison.
Bloomberg saves black children from guns.
Property Brothers guarantee safety, while
Artificial liquefied sugars battle for colored loyalty.
White is not a color, a race
White is a fiction.
You are living in a narrative.