A Palatable King


Dr. King examining a bullet hole in the glassdoor of his rented beach cottage

He goes down easy

made safe
for white consumption

a fierce
biting prophesy
buried in cotton

won’t threaten
our guns
won’t twist
our guts
won’t question our
greed and green
that our empire feeds

a patriotic mascot
not a prophet
who threatens our profit
or questions who profits

a King without sting
selling a brand
of Promised Land
we can stand

where they play just one song:
Can’t we all just get along?

Do we have immunity
to the Beloved Community?



Which Dr. King Shall We Honor?


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