Sonnet 164 – Coals of hate
A realtor, one fine day, did show a house.
A man was with him, and that man’s teen son.
A menace to society thereabouts,
A neighbor called police, with their drawn guns.
Need it be said, the three men all were Black?
In that small town, Blacks are evil strangers.
Three Black men on a porch must mean attack.
All men of color; clear and present danger.
Handcuffed, and shoved into a squad car.
“It’s not because you’re Black,” the police said.
“We lead cautious lives in these here parts.
“Be thankful you’re alive, not shot-gunned dead.”
A family sought out a new abode,
to find the coals of hate still brightly glow.
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