In Orangeburg my brothers did the African twist around a bone-fire they’d built at the gate to keep the hunkies out.
The day before they’d caught one shooting up the campus like the white hunter he was.
But a bone-fire? only conjures up the devil.
When black people are with each other we sometimes fear ourselves whisper over our shoulders about unmentionable acts & sometimes we fight & lie. these are something’s we sometimes do.
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