Who schooled you in the Incendiary Arts?
Trained you to wield helplessness?
You, 17, full of hip-switch and giggle
adrenaline-high with the judgment
of a matchbook.

Who taught you
the Craft of Damsel? How to snatch breath
from the air?

He grabbed
your arm, not knowing it was made of fire
and fuel. It’s since been a century fraught
with reverbed 911 screams.
Cities still burn.

Your comfort still kills.
 

^{For all that was lost in the Tulsa Race Massacre}