Texture, immigration, Color, Grouped elements

Poem: Minority

Submitted by Anonymous. 

Three labels I wear like silken brocade. You’ve designated them, I believe, “minority.”

Count up their numbers, in billions, no less: 3.5, 1.6, 1.3. Minority?


Next to America of course god I… I mixed up the order again.

Freedom doesn’t come for free, minority.


“If you are an alien (not a U.S. citizen), you are considered a nonresident alien unless you meet one of two tests.” —IRS proverb

I’ll tell you what the two tests are, for a fee, minority.


We crossed oceans to experience taxation without representation.

We succeed the Founding Fathers, the OG minority.


It is elitist to identify as a global citizen. Henceforth, please refer to yourself as a multinational corporation.

There’s no hate speech more stilted than PC, minority.


“Can’t we all just get along?” you and I reprimanded his casket,

chasing a hearse. Dogs chase mailmen down the street. My noor, it heaves.


Long story short, long skirts long for school for too long.

All of us think we’re middle class, but it’s the key minority.


No one ever really liked the orange Skittles, anyway.

Don’t always believe what you read, minority.


When the rumble of your stomach resonated in Dakota and Sanford,

You said, “You have the audacity to call me minority?”


Code spilled forth from his fingertips, but he chased it into the warehouse.

When the child came, they were the only two who grieved—minority.


That night we turned our faces up to gather the stars in our eyes.

I have captured the giant, Orion, don’t you see? Mine, or is he?