Oxidized, and stronger with patina, Libertas
Repeats herself, white supremacy is a storied
Pomp, dull-headedness, not welcome
In my country, but where I’m from—
The sea: Let prejudice sink beside that skin
Purported as porcelain, yet in any light, soft-paste—
A white clay and ground glass heart. I hope I am clear;
I hope this will end the fallacy, unnative white
Persons who trespassed & raped & carried cannons &
Smirkers & pigs & criminals & drugs & odious slavery.
Admittedly, older now and more of a sophist,
I want the door of gold to lead to anywhere:
I want to consolidate my lamp with the sun, console
Every soul, except those who publicly charge hate.
Prince Bush is a poet in Nashville TN with poetry in *82 Review, Cotton Xenomorph, Ghost City Press, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Pleides: Literature in Context, SOFTBLOW, and elsewhere. He was a 2019 Bucknell Seminar for Undergraduate Poets Fellow.
