Broken

broken slivers of glass
sprinkled on the hardwood
floors

the sound of the gun shots
still deafening
the customer's ears

is everyone all right?
we think so.

how can the singer go on
singing
her jazzy tune

should she take the
listeners to New Orleans
during Mardi Gras
or to the Caribbean
during a calypso festival

no...
she won't take them to
fantasy
instead...
she will take them to
reality

to New York City
where violence occurs
and gun shots pierce
through jazz clubs

is it because we are
different from you?
because we are
blacker than you?

the hope is, in time, the
music of the nightclub will
unite us all

look
a pale blond woman
in a hot red dress
has come to pick up the
pieces of glass
apologizing for her race

don't apologize, I say...
as I take a shard of glass
out of her hand
people are people,
some good, some bad...
I don't apologize for
Malcolm X
she shouldn't apologize for
The Klan

then
I asked her to dance.

we danced all night...
feeling the crunch of the
broken glass
grind
into the hardwood floor.

maybe we aren't as broken
as before.