ORANGE
silence is not orange it is the putrid colour of menacing collusion. Cowardice. sometimes a poor man sometimes a rich man i wonder what gender i stand in, where my skin touches air; what skin means holding this humanity in form like phyllo pastry.... the translucence of my white privilege barely creates a shadow, cleverly hidden behind clear cut trees what gender has been programmed in me i see the stars again, eventually; from the gutter where I fall broken, dirty, a chipped tooth and a found dime give me false hope i had a loony once so dirty you couldn't see it was money blood and oil on all our hands blood and oil on all our hands we wash it out with sterilized gels poison the world water circles around pretending our shores aren't yours, aren't ours it is all pretend we have blood on our hands sometimes a rich man sometimes a poor man i am a woman turned her back on motherhood, or is it motherhood stabbed me in the back? forced into barren-hood hope raped by greed i was a rich man once, now just a poor man, i wait. i wait. i wait, we wait; for bloodstained hands to open in a compassionate turn they've never known to hold my newborn babe to my naked breast, the milk of human kindness, human kindness as dry as my middle aged tit i lay weary and disgusted in humankind no gender no colour no winner we are all lost. Killers. Guilty. with oil and blood on our withering greedy hands N. Hoeppner 05/2015
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2/19/2021 12:23:27 pm
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