Typewriter Series #3038 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Called this spot the melting pot
come in many walk out one
Was the lie we bought
We’re frogs in cool water
With no idea it’s getting boiling hot
Come in you tired you huddled
you poor, came in many
but walked out more.
Come in you yearning,
you lost, you sore,
Segregation spread
before we reached the far shore.
Promises made as plans were laid,
Freedom shouted in brogue and drawl,
a hanging tree remembers
being loved for its shade.
Called this spot the melting pot,
started off broken,
afraid of all we were not.
Come said they, white wig and pomp,
distractions from their sins and rot,
still broken, say we, cracks still growing
shot after shot after shot.
Cooked we’ve become, forgetful lot,
never complained loud enough
wasn’t that hot, we thought.
Boiled our fears, stole our voices, it’s
too late to remember what we forgot.
Started out many, now we’re more,
wasn’t this spot the melting pot?
-Tyler Knott Gregson-