In My America by Imogen Arate

In my America The Constitution is a false advertisement Our entitlement to its guarantees Are dealt in measure by the contrast Between our skin color And the Bible upon which We lay our hands for entrance An invisible cardboard Uncle Sam That puts his hand up to his eyeballs Tells me with a speech bubble that “You have to be this rich To get on this ride” And I am constantly told That I don’t qualify By the well-meaning … Continue reading In My America by Imogen Arate