silence

you call me on the phone
crying, because you do not think you are a good person
they said we could be anything but we chose to be silent
and it is so beautiful to be alive
but only until a man is just a body
until our taped lips kiss the chest motionless
until teeth grind the tongue into a stone
upon which racism sharpens its blades

the silence
that means
there is a grown man on his knees we cannot pray for
a grown man pleading for his mother we cannot save
sirens sounding more like warnings than rescues
somewhere there is a boy who kisses his mother goodnight
and the silence nurtures that same mouth
to one day spit bullets

in the morning the stillness gnaws like a guilty conscience
awaken from a veil of sleep so deep and
there is nothing left but to use our teeth and knives
cut through the layers like razorblades to skin
promise to push our voices up against the glass
and scream
until it breaks