I find, as you enter, the terror
of what naked-spot the house failed to conceal
by the hands responsible for the sponge and the
sink of water

when faucet runs over and is wiped clean to dry
ensuring, promising, there
are zero questions to identify about the cleanliness of
your privilege

the one you cannot accept, the one
you cannot see with your own eyes, the one
that’s hidden within the skull, a broken brain, simply
cannot imagine

how great he has it and how much
has been sacrificed for your sanity


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