Crabs in a Barrel
By Lo Williams
The Top
I can almost see the silk sun,
feel its heat pierce into my skull.
My arms shake and my legs dangle.
Freedom is a black, not white, picture
and I can almost see my face
but, as quickly as my shadow came--
it was pulled away. Or I was
the Middle
so close but always so damn far
look at me: workin twice as hard
getting half of the white...and black?
how low am i to deserve that?
these eyes were forged for the sky
not to watch my freedom pass by
if i’ll be damned...we’ll all die
the bottom
crabs in this brown barrel black-souled
black-skinned and blind-spotted and sold
tastin the soles of red bottom shoes
itchin to bruise copper and consume
lettin the deep sorrow songs ring true.
only the set sun hears our cry:
there’s life at the Black bottom too.
By Lo Williams
The Top
I can almost see the silk sun,
feel its heat pierce into my skull.
My arms shake and my legs dangle.
Freedom is a black, not white, picture
and I can almost see my face
but, as quickly as my shadow came--
it was pulled away. Or I was
the Middle
so close but always so damn far
look at me: workin twice as hard
getting half of the white...and black?
how low am i to deserve that?
these eyes were forged for the sky
not to watch my freedom pass by
if i’ll be damned...we’ll all die
the bottom
crabs in this brown barrel black-souled
black-skinned and blind-spotted and sold
tastin the soles of red bottom shoes
itchin to bruise copper and consume
lettin the deep sorrow songs ring true.
only the set sun hears our cry:
there’s life at the Black bottom too.
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