I still believe in God. What else keeps me
From slaughter? Who else holds the butcher’s hand?
Sweet slaughter. Though I’d pray, Give me butcher’s hands,
Matthew baked me cakes as if I could be saved.
He baked spice cake, humming as if we were safe,
As if this weren’t the land of milk and money.
We can’t survive this nation of white money,
Says the black man as his excuse for malice.
What black man needs an excuse for malice?
Why mask the salt? No sugar is that sweet.
My pressure’s high. No sugar could make me sweet
If he came back today, if he forgave me.
Since he won’t come back, won’t forgive me,
I believe in God. Who else would keep me?
Until further notice Poetry Daily will devote Wednesdays to What Keeps Us, an impromptu series featuring poems that sustain and uplift through trying times. Each poem is accompanied with an image by author-illustrator Juana Medina (http://www.juanamedina.com). We thank you for reading and hope that you will share poems with your friends and neighbors. Please be well.