If the flag catch
fire, & an X
burn in, that X is Black
& leaves an
empty space. It
is that place
where we live
the Afro American
Nation
If the flag
catch afire
& an X burn in
the only stripes is
on our back
the only star
blow free
in the northen sky
no red but our
blood, no white
but slavers and Klux in robes
no blue
but our songs
If the flag catch fire
& an X
burn in
that X is black
& the space that is left
is our history
now a mystery
we only live
where the flag
is not
where the air is funky
the music
hot
inside the hole
in the American soul
that space, that place
empty of democracy
we live
inside the burned boundaries
of a wasted symbol
X humans, X slaves, unknown, incorrect
crossed out, multiplying the wealth of others
If the flag
catch fire
& an X burn in
that X
believe me,
is black.
from: "The United States of Poetry"