Last Black American Poem
Voted for the negro twice, twice my captor
Wore my face. Admit it, Danez, you loved
Your master in your shade. Yes, I loved
Knowing the color at the end of my chain
Matched mine. ((Wrong river. It wasn’t chains
It was water when one of us helmed the boat.
Water for our eyes, water raised to the lips
Of cargo. Still cargo. In summer
We turned down that Jeezy, learning a new one’s
Slain name. The helm and still. The boat, still
Headed to Carolina shores.)) My president was Black
When mothers got millions in exchange for sons.
Michelle’s perm was perfect as bombs dropped
In the middle of childhoods.
We buried my grandpa with an Obama button
Pinned to his lapel. Finally free, we sent him to heaven
American. When he won, we sprinted Bascom Hill
& danced like happy slaves at Lincoln’s feet.
We were happy ass slaves, happy to vote
Happy to be able to protest the killing
We couldn’t end, happy for healthcare
That killed us slower, happy the gays could marry
In the country where trans women vanished
Like snow in warm winters
Happy our wars were only of the mind
Only elsewhere.
Forgive me, I wrote odes to presidents.
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Last Black American Poem” copyright © 2024 by Danez Smith. Reprinted from Bluff with the permission of the author and Graywolf Press. www.graywolfpress.org All rights reserved.
