Stage Dive

How many times have friends
cheered me on to my demise?
Band to back, stage lights above.
An aurora borealis. Fear & nausea
will not let me climb down.

I’ve never understood my desire
to please my tormentors. On bridge.
On stage. A leap leads to an ending.
Onlookers cheer. A black body
before a mob never ends well.

They would still applaud if
I covered myself in gasoline,
lit a match. This is how I die
every day: standing alone
surrounded by torches.

My belief that I belong
in their world is the noose
that strangles me. I’m told
those hands below are not
claws in a lake of fire.
​
They will never understand.
I was raised on ancient lessons
of flights to freedom:
when Black people fly,
no one needs to catch us.