I rolled down

I rolled down
my tongue so that
he could take
a strode and
my nameless owning
the carders of my ears
bullets was
shot from my
nostrils they
ripped the image
of the fair skinned Christ
who offed me
a stagger of tabernacles
the lines in my face
was tasks that
I never got around to
offer me water to
shade my love of youngsters
offer me me relief
from the fire
of your touch
when grief
stalks me pass a
nameless rolls of Negroes
digging out
the eyes of
white soldiers
who killed the
last meaning
of being free.