the pharaoh "narmer" from a photo by keith shengili-roberts
LAND OF THE PHARAOHS
by
Jefferson Carter
I
like being called “brother”
by
black men. I like walking past
Land
of the Pharaohs
&
being invited in by the brothers
to
bless them with a poem.
“Brothers,”
I say, “brothers,
please,
no keyboards, no congas,
let
me lay something white & uptight
on
you brothers.” I recite my poem
about
Martians & Geiger counters,
its
conclusion an ironic invitation
to
Jesus to drop by some morning
for
coffee. They hate it.
The
brothers hate it
but
they’re polite, not like Kerouac
at
the Living Theater,
heckling
Frank O’Hara
or
the Academy Awards audience
mocking
poor Sally Fields
when
she said “You
like
me! You really do
like
me!” The brothers forgive me
as
they’d forgive a flying nun
who
alighted among them
&
roosted, preening, while a brother
recited
his hip-hop poem called
“Kill
the Honky Muthafuckers.”
~
previously published in Get Serious
