American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin

by Terrance Hayes

What do you call a visionary who does not recognize Her vision?

Something happened In Sanford, something happened in Ferguson And Brooklyn & Charleston, something happened In Chicago & Cleveland & Baltimore & happens Almost everywhere in this country every day. Probably someone is prey in all of our encounters. You won’t admit it. The names alive are like the names In graves.

I pour a pinch of serious poison for you James Earl Ray Dylann Roof I pour a punch of piss For you George Zimmerman John Wilkes Booth Robert Chambliss Thomas Edwin Blanton Jr Bobby Frank Cherry Herman Frank Cash your name

Beauty trumps power or blood to trump power Justice trumps power or blood to trump power

Even the most kindhearted white woman, Dragging herself through traffic with her nails On the wheel & her head in a chamber of black Modern American music may begin, almost Carelessly, to breathe n-words. Yes, even the most Bespectacled hallucination cruising the lanes Of America may find her tongue curls inward, Entangling her windpipe, her vents, toes & pedals When she drives alone. Even the most made up Layers of persona in a two- or four-door vehicle Sealed in a fountain of bass & black boys Chanting n-words may begin to chant inwardly Softly before she can catch herself. Of course, After that, what is inward, is absorbed.

Seven of the ten things I love in the face Of James Baldwin concern the spiritual Elasticity of his expressions.