The Good Caucasian
by Ailish Hopper
[It’s] the ghost in me coming out. —Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry
When forty acres have besieged
my brow, and a mule
and a winter, cold
as Ice Cube, I try
a remembrance of things, floating past—
Miss Daisy, and her necklace
of fingerpointing Title pages
On the South now squares of ash
centers embering
If memory be a mountaintop
mine is hidden
by fat, puffy clouds, and other
symptoms. But, when dis-raced
in men’s eyes, and by time—
dust, the centuries—I will admit
impediment. My body
is where we are held
My eyes
have drawn
your shape
and you mine. Not
I Have a dream
A cold, cold feeling
Published on August 8, 2014