Sonnet #127

We were supposed to be through with the uncivil war
Where men would draw steel to oppress other men
And state legislatures could decide enemies and friends
Where they draw their own lines. It chills me more
Than horror films to watch the descendants win
The war without a single shot. Just vote and shout
And shout and vote and build lies upon natural doubts
Until the mythic south will rise with all the oldest sins
The race war lingers under police batons, redlining
And what is worse? The Christian curses of crusade
And witch hunt and shame the women in bandaging
The south will rise again and break the power of the fed
The south will rise again and vote away the global rising
Swallow all the lies of power, what to do is what They said.