if I spoke Spanish
by Hezekiah
Allen Taylor
the world is made in China
they craft humans from a mold
paint trees in green lead
some chink is, right now, getting cancer from that
he's the new boy
slicing free the fruits of toys and bra clasps
new niggers in a new field
if I knew the language
I could tell the future
wetbacks wait, and then
there will be more
maybe towel heads, who knows?
someone will rise
when the Chinese die from industry
but, it won't be me, sugar
I'm too white and middle class
and decidedly American
to die from work
that risk is for someone else entirely
after all,
as the Romans knew well,
there's always another man
to torture
a man who packages,
seals down the edges,
and ships himself
without a single word
bring us your tired
your poor
your huddled masses
but make sure
they carry some parts for this truck
and a toy for my brat
and some new silverware
tied together in a tight little pack
on his back
and tell him
he can't stay
if he doesn't speak the language
Francine's
Version -- Hezekiah's Version
Previous Poem -- Next
Poem -- Table of Contents