Nice Day For A Lynching
by Kenneth Patchen
The bloodhounds look like sad old judges
In a strange court. They point their noses
At the Negro jerking in the right noose;
His feet spread crow-like above these
Honorable men who laugh as he chokes.
I don’t know this man.
I don’t know these white men.
But I know that one of my hands
Is black, and one white. I know that
One part of me is being strangled.
While another part horribly laughs.
Until it changes,
I shall be forever killing; and be killed.