Trayvon

America, standing her ground,
blindly tripping over her feet.
Slapstick Lady Justice impales herself
on that double-edged sword: word has it
there are loopholes in everything,
and what is law ain't necessarily so
just cuz it's written. Ask any Indian.
Or slave descendent.
If you think we've come a long way,
we've got even further to go.
America's forked tongue speech:
fastened to the barrel of a gun, enforced
by the hammer of justice smashing
truth at the pull of a trigger. We got laws,
oh Lawd, to deal with niggers. Down
in Floriduh, in Amerikkka, in a world
diverse like a pack of Skittles, another
name is added to a lengthy list of wishes
washed out. Whitewashed. Lily, like
lies. And to think, Martin had a dream.
So did Trayvon.