This umpteenth Juneteenth
passes for a celebration,
but we as a nation know
we are not free. These chains
of slavery still weigh like human
freight upon our furrowed brow.
An era so grotesque we know not how
to comprehend the vestige
of that sin against our common soul.
All I know to do is go from door
to door, hand out fliers to support
Booker for senator.  A man
I’ve never met, but surely he
can bring a better future
than we’ve seen, surely he
must be a silver lining
in this year of quarantine.
That out of west Louisville,
just like the great Ali,
he could be the hero
in our desperate time of need.
That our nation’s angst
might boil, and this blood-
stained soil we call the USA
might for once and all be
cleansed of our intrinsic hatred,
that each door slammed on me
today might send a repercussion
through this nation, and that wave
will rise and Booker on the senate
floor will enact long overdue
and necessary