The Beer Summit of 2009

Circa, Summer 2009

He said, he said "I am history it is not dead."
I do testify,
that they ask for more than an alibi.
My face alone! Metal to bone.
See how their discretions lie, as trampled footpaths to my home.

He said, he said, "Division lives, but not in my head."
Privileged accusation!
It is MY face and my proud vocation
under fire. Who is the liar?
Inflamed again with grand oration, successors of the hateful choir.

I said, I said, "I don't know what it's like to be dead."
But I do know well, of those who get kissed and tell,
Nay Preach! All to well,
Of devils that, but for their word,
Would cease to live, to hell return.

Written during the height of the scandal surrounding the arrest of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and the controversial “Beer Summit”, this was my first foray into free verse, as well as my first taste, as a girl raised in a staunchly republican household, of inner moral conflict set against the backdrop of racial tension and the absurdity of apology culture. At this time I was still very much married to classical verbiage and tone, and had certainly not yet refined any ability to keep a sense of flow and rhythm within a free verse style poem - hence the somewhat clunky feel. This piece, part elegy, part polemic, part courtroom cross-fire, is the first evidence of what has become a lifetime of attempting to live in the gray, and give both credence and critique to multiple points of view.