Sitting with my Father in the only cafe in St. Francisville, Louisiana

A Part of "A Collection of Things I’m Afraid to Say in Public"

As I sit, anguishing in my broken disguise,

And these men walk amongst me calling me friend,

I know that the peel back of these emaciated barricades

would lead to the utter destruction of my face.

 

As long as I am here, I:

Will see them break against every aspect of my being.

Will see them berate people like me.

Will know the statistics should I be uncovered.

Will hear the things that, in mixed company, would not be uttered.

Will be called a name that I long burned away;

Will live in fear each and every day.

Will say nothing.

 

Sometimes a place is born corrupted

This town is not a town

It is a moment continuing uninterrupted