Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Libra

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write a balance poem.

Libra

America cross dresses as Libra

but she is no innocent lady of justice.

Born a Cancer, 

she is an aggressive malignant

tumor to her own indigenous.

Her deoxyribonucleic acid

make-up 250 years plus

of heavy weight melanoma.

She is the notorious

queen pin of oppression,

known for tipping the scales 

of justice to outweigh 

the African chattel.

She breaths a declaration 

of independence 

but the eye of her soul

sketches the roots of her insecurities.

With excessive blood on her hands,

she’s no natural, true beauty.

Her freedom rings

a far-flung rhythm of blues.

Her genes never inherited

the alleles of equality and liberty.

Her harmony, absent from 

the bodies of the children 

born to her...

And We the People 

only identifies as plural

to the singular, 

lighter version of herself.

With her right hand over her heart,

she lip-syncs the pledge of allegiance

proudly in her Jesus' blood and bones,

though all of her records of red flags

ascend from the belly of hell.

💜D'ElegantOne