On James Byrd, Jr.

Those men are not me, but some could say they are like me.
They are white. Maybe they were tall, maybe they had dark hair.
They are Texan. Maybe they called themselves Christian at some point.
They had a driver's license. Maybe they ate fried eggs for breakfast most mornings like I do.
They probably liked a song I liked, or maybe even a poem.

...and maybe that is enough for someone to hate me.

For someone to fill in my details and gaps
with the sooted mud of anguish and
why would you do that? and
why did this happen? and why and why and why and why and why and why and why and why and why and why?

Inspired by "Jasper, 1998" by Saeed Jones