Sitting on my hands
for the school district superintendent and
for my mother, who gives her all everyday
My hands
stapled
to my seat
when you swooped in
unannounced
under summer cover
when school bells sit silent
and children play
in Richmond streets
navigating gunfire
while parents negotiate
drug deals
the unemployment line
two
sometimes three jobs
to make ends meets
unbeknownst
of your chair stealing tactics
robbin’ hoods
stealing from blacks
to give to whites
cuz black kids
don’t need new chairs
or new schools
or new shoes
and clean clothes
or good food and
this aint about chairs
its about us
tired
of always taking what you give us
and me sitting on my hands
but mom might lose her job
if I speak up
cuz you her boss and
damn good at firing people
who don’t know their place
so I muffle screams
behind lips
shut
keep quiet
when your eyes smile at me
as she introduces us in the hallway
at Stege School
I want to tell you
take your fake pleasantries
your filthy handshakes
deceitful grins
and sit on them
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