The Christians are playing
their anvils again
outside the Planned Parenthood

& like the clanging things
I too am black &
have been wrought

& so I grab a mallet
to beat myself & feel
what it’s like to be heard

& the mallet can’t believe
what it’s been asked to do
& the sound I make

is out of tune & untamed,
is reverb & flame
the way riot is flame,

the way bloom & bud
& blood are flame &
when they stop their play

to watch me like I am the sun
and might do anything to anyone,
I realize this is the only way to live.

To put your voice to song
and wrap the song in fire.
That is what is required.