Tulsa: “By repeated blows the oak is felled”
The children told us where to find you,
your charred, gun ridden, dressed in prom attire
black bodies
They told us where the white men dumped your
charred remains
In the city owned cemetery
in front of
the National Guard
Scarred children have good memories
quiet at first but always thinking; what do they think?
they tell,
the children told
believe them
They lived to be old
and before they left us
they told their children
who told their children
who made them uncover your graves
and now we stand watch in those places and
we count
your
bones
