Vignette 21.
Do you look upon me
with fear?
Do you move away
so you’re not near?
I’m standing
right in front of
a bricked up door.
For you to enter
this passage
I must move
or
disappear.
I suppose
you will sneer
at this queer
juxtaposition
of a man of color
and a door of white.
I steer
my own life
with not one tear
poet resigné
with a sphere
of song
that will guide
my ear.
