The future is a bomb
delivered by the blameless
claw that was born in the cradle
of civilization so that it could die in Dallas.
But even in the future, I can’t help
but think about the machine rounding the corner
and finding a white face at the end
of the hallway. What part of the code
in its heart would make it question
the law instead of executing
its directive? What glitch
would make it fall over
and cover the blast, turning itself to ash
before asking a white man to turn
over his gun? No, I see
it shutting down and dying
in an infinite loop of X < American
guilt while X = 1 white man
and X = 1 white man + America. I see the smoke
and sparks rising from its limbs.
I see its body glowing hot
and then going cold when it learns the only real laws
that matter in this country.
Jason McCall holds an MFA from the University of Miami. His collections include Silver; I Can Explain; Dear Hero,; Mother, Less Child; Two-Face God; A Man Ain’t Nothin’; and What Shot Did You Ever Take (co-authored with Brian Oliu). He and P.J. Williams are the editors of It Was Written: Poetry Inspired by Hip-Hop. He is a native of Montgomery, Alabama, and he teaches at the University of North Alabama.
