New Orleans, 2012

The sun beats, a drum,

rhythm of marching children.

Blue hair, yellow, 

brown.

Light skinned,

darkened.

 

In school, the children learned that blue-haired kids

went to the back of the bus,

so he asked his mom,

did you go to the back?

He knew about Martin Luther

even if he was too young to see

in black and white.

Too young to understand

not all lives mattered.

 

The sun illuminates,

all colors.

He can see,

clearly

in his mirror,

black and white 

reflect back.