Static Cling Swing

This dark dream sooted in pitch
marker upon the whiteboard of a pilgrim’s promise.
This dark dawn pressing from soil & pushing forth black diamonds
into the fields of cotton, tees & backs
branded in iron ore
Nike; the same as shoes used for shackling
feet & shackles that beat
shoulders with chips & weight.

This dark afternoon delighted in a million men
& marching upon George D.C.;
these Harlem readings of obsidian angels, their
wings of jet blanketing the streets in
rebirth; re-sounding
massive black waves of oceanic riffs
from New Orleans, Chicago, & Kansas City too.

This dark evening covered
as we peel these eyes & pull them off
to turn them into television;
an episode of Law & Order where the suspect walks
away; where metal meets the ribs of a child &
bleeds saccharine poison that fuels
this night like petrol.

During this dark twilight,
should I Occupy
myself in the comforts of a
Bar & Rack
myself with spirits & whine over hooded crooked countertops.
Or am I too oblique,
too angry & too scared of the approaching
shadow of this dark nightmare.

Egg whites only
on my morning muffin,
English of course.
Make my sandwiches
mayo & mustard, vegetables, &
freedom fries to the side.
Butcher the wheat bread,
replace it with white.  Bleach
brown rice, cover in sodium chloride.
For dessert a scoop of
vanilla topped in mAcademia nuts.
Nothing more,
as my tastes are simple
& resolve is sweet.

No tips though, because
I carry no change.

Grailin Fletcher writes poetry and music and is a Fullerton College Student.