Cooked

We are proud cooks 

in the kitchen,  stirring the pot. It is not what you think. It is  not the smell of 

 chicken being fried in hot grease arriving at the nose

up and awaking .  We are n

not at a wedding but wedded to do the master's work

embedded to a notion we need be fed the kinman's hatred.

There's no Jim Crow to hand over our lives to. There's no Jim Crow laws

to appease the one's in charge. There's no Jim Crow law to obey.

There's no Jim Crow white cloths under disguised heads,

pride and white power.  No fire to burn.