Consider me
a colored boy.
Once sixteen,
once five, once three,
once nobody.
Now me.
Before me, papa, mama,
grandpa,
grandma,
so on back to original pa,
spelled G-O-D.
A capital letter there,
God being mystery.
Consider me,
colored boy, downtown at eight,
sometimes working late.
Overtime paid is poured away or saved,
or give my sugar
for the things she needs.
Consider her my sugar.
She works too,
has to.
One don't make enough for all the stuff it takes to live.
Forgive me what I lack, black,
caught in a crack that splits the world in two,
from China
by way of Alabama to Lenox Avenue.
Lenox Avenue.
Consider me.
On Friday, the eagle flies.
Saturday,
laughter,
a bar, a bed.
Then Sunday,
prayers, syncopate glory.
Then Monday,
Monday comes eight,
to work late maybe.
Consider me,
descended also from the mystery.
Consider me.