Emperor
We did not make our sea’s idea of order.
Yet we are the makers of our ever-hooded.
Let me not let be unseemly finales—
bulbous racism. That white lamp.
Bronze syntactical solenoids latch:
Stevens’s affixing despite the beam.
Bronzeville’s reddest room
ablated by a whitest house fixture.
Let me not let be his unseemly
remark when Brooks won the Pulitzer.
Let me not let be I know not seems.
Let me not be affixed by his beam,
even as his glitter bombs slickenside me
under the bus of beloved bewilder.
Let me not let be his unseemly slurs,
icily slung. Faceless bluing beam
further killing sons.
Till. Seen.
