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

generational trauma.

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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