Poetry of Witness.

Poetry of Witness

by james bezerra

My professor told me

I simply can’t be

a poet of witness

because I happen to be:

American and alive

and white

and male

and middle class

and straight

and therefore have nothing to witness.

And so it goes,

I suppose.

I can’t honestly disagree.

But me, I’m not guilty

of 500 years of racist/patriarchal hegemony.

I’m just trying to to pay my rent.

My Argentinian landlord doesn’t give a shit

about the imperialism of caucasian history.

She just wants her money.

And promptly.

I’ll admit I probably benefit

by being white and fit,

male and straight as an arrow

but I simply fail

to agree that I’ve nothing to witness.

If nothing else there’s my impending poverty

since - either way - I can’t pay my rent with poetry.

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