Poetry

To The White Men Who Fear Everything

No comment needed…

Fatimah Asghar

& everyone. Including my 11 year old frame

a circle of empty surrounding me & my violin

on the crowded bus the weeks after the towers

fell & then you blamed my skin. It was your feet

& broken glass that followed me around the field

when I showed up too early for soccer practice,

you who reminded me no sidewalk or park

would ever be mine. Anything coming from

a country ending in –stan steamed terror, towelhead,

exotic words I’d never heard, but now all my name but not

now all my resume but not. I know I must scare you,

white men, me with my heavy lidded eyes, loud

laugh & insistence on being here & heard.

Me, with my brown & fly until I die, me with my Islam

& tattoos & my uncle who changed his restaurant

to Afghani food the month after you threw bottles

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Categories: Poetry

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