Self-censoring myself, stowing word-sabers –
sarcasm and snappy satire – in the scabbard,
and becoming the saint of scrubbed and sanitized
sacchariney sweetness
so as not to seem sensitive, insecure, vulnerable
so as to seem safe, secure, strong, unsusceptible,
so as to seem above the spikes and spurs
because we all know the scapegoat should
never sound off – her job is to be stoic
and suffer in silence for your sins
when the song stops and there’s no seat for her
– she’s the one still standing for all the other
people of privilege to paste the sign on
and establish that THEY are not racists,
maskless, vaccineless stooges
(strangely, establishing their biases
in their efforts to seem bias-less)
but – suffering succotash – it stings!
-Karen Molenaar Terrell