Poem #11

I cry for no land.

I am not your brother.

I eat on my table

And no company is allowed,

You sulk,

And go hungry,

And grow weak.

Yesterday,

You were in the kitchen

While I ate at the table.

I dare you utter a word,

You will eat in the kitchen,

As always.

Further,

You are a hideous sight

And I celebrate no relation.

I cry for no land.

(Rebuttal to Langston Hughes, "I, Too, Sing America")