Tracy K. Smith

I.
I don’t want to hear their voices.
To stand sucking my teeth while they
Rant. For once, I don’t want to know
What they call truth, or what flags
Flicker from poles stuck to their roofs.
Let them wait. Lead them to the back porch
And let them lean there while the others eat.
If they thirst, give them a bucket and a tin cup.
If they’re sick, tell them the doctor’s away,
That he doesn’t treat their kind. Warn them
What type of trouble tends to crop up
Around here after dark.

The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.

You know how, shoulders hiked nice and high, chin tipped back,
So the song has to climb its way out like a man from a mine