14th & Constitution

1. 

So I guess now 

I’m a domestic terrorist 

I usedta live in dc 

Really move through it 

Like a woman in the know 

Of the concrete and brick buildings 

Very familiar with 

The heavy sound of congas 

Steelpan drums 

Alleyways and corner store runs 

I used to really live in dc 

Mark my name on newspaper stands 

Hop the fare gates 

Slide in between closing doors, and find my favorite spot 

I was / we were / the back and bone of this 

Restless city 

Kind in its ways 

Abrupt/ but lovable 

Loud/ but rarely boring 

This used to be a city of homes 

And dancing bodies 

Since our great grandmothers and fathers 

Stumbled into this swampy marsh 

Cotton and mud on their arms and legs 

Flavoring this inconsequential District 

With the thick slurred language of Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, and North Carolina 

Mixing them in a way only colored folk can 

Some chocolate comes from cocoa plants 

Ours came from our parents 

Who told us keep ten toes down 

Ur head on a swivel 

Cus u never know what’s lurking 

Around the bend for u— 

Opps donned in badges, others with social capital 

And monies 

Itching to rob u 

Of ur home 

And well-deserved identity 

I usedta live here 

Now I bleed on the corners 

Die in between torn asunder 

Communities 

Barbed wires and empty promises

2. 

So, to quell my aching spirit 

I took to the streets 

Brandishing all the weapons I could find— Glocks, knives, tasers, and mace— 

And became a domestic terrorist 

I pushed newcomers off the sidewalks 

Hoping to send 

A sliver of satisfaction to my people—dead and displaced I bust the windows out their cars 

Screamed “go home! We want our city 

Our music, and claim to our culture 

Back” 

We want our sweet mangoes back 

Guzzlers 

Singles and a safer Barry Farms back 

I lit flame to the monuments 

Burned ‘Soufeast’ into the Mall 

Until it was made clear 

That this city was meant for the blackened 

I picketed on 14th and Constitution 

I yelled at the top of my lungs that 

This ode to history and culture is nothing 

When vessels of said “history and culture” 

Are discarded wiped out 

I threw landlords from 

The top floors of their buildings 

I dethroned Lincoln from his 

Seat/ porcelain like the teeth 

Of Washington’s first slaves 

I used the parcels of his remains 

To etch my name 

All along Independence Avenue 

3. 

I cut myself open and 

Recolored the scape of my city 

Until it was Black like it was meant to be