I am the token negro
I sit in the colored section with Fanon in hand
(to demonstrate my militancy)
and a very dry martini
(ingredients: yellow grass and a green faggot
over lightly)
while circumcised flies buzz brassy smells over my head
The women (obviously my superiors)
White sharp lines
and light-blue mascara
reaching all the way down beyond the red neck
crossing the middle age spread
form a double V (at home and the office)
spinning spidery daydreams of cloth
once covering and once removed
dripping babies
I asked why
the group wouldn’t be in the Black community
(it was Black French—which I should point out
has nothing to do with sex)
And was told quite soundlee
that just because they’re colored don’t
mean they’re not artists too
THEY’RE ARTISTS TOO AND COLOR
AIN’T GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT
AND WHY OH WHY WON’T YOU PEOPLE
LET US FORGET YOU’RE COLORED TOO
Token Negroes
I do believe, at least I was told,
and it is very important
for future exchanges
And again I must point out sex is not the issue
that we should simply fuck
tokenism