Can I Borrow Your Iniquities?

If you don’t mind

Can I borrow your iniquities?

Since my sins are so much greater and heaven has no room for
me – could you loan me your transgressions?

See my sexual prowess is so detestable that I need to prove to the
almighty that I’m worthy of a straight man’s blessing

Christian – let me borrow your passive aggression, so I can
somehow learn the lesson that Jesus loves you but you will burn…
in the name of the Lord

Let me borrow your discord, Christian!

Let me borrow your discord, Christian!

Let me borrow your discord, Christian – how can you use your
Bible as a double edged sword and think both of those testaments
will only pierce me?

Or is Judgment reserved only for those heterosexuals of you who
sin so beautifully?

Could you loan me your audacity?

Your ability, your nerve, and the capacity to love and hate all in
the same breath?

See my plea is simply to be sure, happy, and wanted, as myself

So I feel that somebody owes me some confidence

Because after hearing all the reasons why I’m not worthy of his
mercy I have no certainty except in the fact that I’ve been robbed
of all of it

Christ paid it all but he didn’t factor in the cost of me?

Somebody, please! My soul is said to burn eternally

Let me borrow your inequities and pretend to be better

See my sexuality somehow severed my ties to the savior so could
you do me a favor:

Touch your neighbor and ask him can he grace me with a bit of
his graces since Jesus couldn’t afford me and heaven struck homos
from its budget but adjusted it just to make room for you – the
virtuous and perfect insufficiency

But I wouldn’t mind seeing those streets of glory

Would you mind holding on to my purgatory just for a second so
I can peek at your promise?

See I’m so honest that I’d give your paradise back to you

Even though you’re so willing to snatch mine away from me

You’re that same thief in John 10:10 who comes to kill and
destroy – but somehow you’ve still carved out life abundantly

You are so high above me

Even with your gluttonous way of fucking me

Your fornication and adultery

Your lies from the pulpit

And your sodomy in secrecy

Preacher

Let me borrow your teachings

As you pray for my delivery

Not to your God

But still on your knees

Can I borrow the lies that excrete between your teeth so I can
misuse forgiveness and its power

So that I won’t cower at the idea of being forsaken

I know this is blatant and selfish of me to ask but since you sin

So much better than me

Can I borrow your iniquities?

Where’s my manners

And excuse my urgencies

As I can see

That you clearly are not done with them yet

Criminally Black

The preface of my purgatory bore me black and stacked all the
odds against me

No jury to await an impending judgment

Because my complexion already rendered me guilty

Sentenced to death by legalized hate crimes

Metaphorical lynchings of those criminally black in white
America

The land of the free ain’t so free for a black man in white
America

Concentration camps didn’t begin in Germany

They took their blueprint from white America trying to cancel
out this black album and

Without a reasonable doubt they now use our penal system

Systematic injustices

To implement our slavery

And as successors to our lineage

We’re all guilty as American gangsters

And they have unfinished business with the dynasty

Black people:

America promises nothing

40 acres and a mule

And we’ve yet to receive

Nothing

Have Medgar Evers and Rodney King taught us nothing?

Emmett Till’s murderers got away scot-free

Time served was absolutely nothing

But yet Michael Vick does a two-year stint

Because in comparison to a pit

Black life is worth

Absolutely nothing

We are the hunted

Endangered species in this wild jungle we call our home

But we’re not even welcome here

We’re not even wanted but

If my skin were lighter maybe I’d understand why Dorothy
clicked her heels

And said

There’s no place like home

Dethrone the idea that we’re on equal playing fields

No this is a slaughter

But it’s somehow legal

To take the life of skin darker

So we can’t exactly call them robbers

They’re monsters of this

Judicial gang called America

And being black is the treason

Killing niggaz back to back it’s open season

When being black is a crime

Punishments are acts of

Stand your ground murders

Or enslavements by extensive stints of jail time

So if you ever find yourself seventeen with Arizona Tea

A tall being in a hoodie with skittles

Just don’t be black

Because history has taught us

It’s that which makes us

Criminal

Kevin Wiggins is the 2019 winner of the DC Poet Project, an open-to-all poetry competition created by the non-profit Day Eight to surface extraordinary poets. Wiggins was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland and performs as The Mysfit – a spoken word artist, storyteller, and playwright. His work stares adversity in the face and is unapologetic for the Black LGBTQ community with intensity, rage, compassion, and love. His debut collection of poetry, Port of Exit, is available for purchase on Amazon here. Amy Woolard wrote about Port of Exit, “These poems, and this poet, are a gospel.”


Image by Eric T Gunther, CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here