An Immortal Technique
I tell myself
I am going to stop explaining things to white people
when in reality
I think what I mean is
I am going to stop caring if white people are wrong
when I start to feel detached,
like I’m falling outside of myself,
suddenly the weight of dead cells seems apparent.
my ancestors speak to me from petri dishes,
the prototypes for modern vaccines.
apathy solidifies itself.
my doctor says
this is your body calcifying
my mother asks me
who are you being a slave for?
and I’m honest when I say
I don’t know.
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