Black Apples

Swinging under a tree, black apples fall

To the ground while blood-red leaves gently

Sway like the limbs, stiff in the branches; tall

6 foot 5 inches, naked and empty

Like the hollow inside when I’m hungry;

Ravenous to know WHY? To understand;

I shouldn’t be here playing among the

Fairies and flowers; we’re in Wonderland.

“Hush! Hush! Don’t look!” Mama crosses her chest,

I skip to hopscotch in my Sunday best.

“Who is that man, Mama?” I want to plead;

Tacked to his tongue is a note that I read:

“BE GRATEFUL ALL NIGGERS THIS COULD BE YOU”

They couldn’t mean me, but if not, then who?


Alexandra Dumas is from NYC, attends Columbia College Chicago, and enjoys doing stunts on her rollerblades. 

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