Inside the House


I’m no frail eel, no damsel steal,

My costume’s a bathrobe, secure as hazmat

one look at me, I’m addictive as transfat

you can’t touch my towel-rack.


My batcave’s this needlepark,

But it’s being converted to luxury condos,

so I’m gonna sing you my vendetta rondeaus.

My hustling’s to get Ovidian,


zapping all them white asses,

Sri-Lankan tan to black Papua-New-Ginean

Smoke me some super power gungeon,

Ain’t nothing like loose Lipton,


Then I blast developers to the ghettos of Trenton.

So quill it, or I’ll shoot you a bindi

bleeding between your periwinkle twinklers.

Make bankers squat like Untouchable tinklers,


My last attack? Razzed a Koch plutocrat

and he turned to Mohammed Has-sad

He tried to rush out of airport Halifax

But Customs held him back.


Mistook him for a wanted Yemen foe.

Pistol-whipped him when he made a row.

He was a no show at Chevron Texaco,

cuz shit, now he’s in Guantanamo.


So I’m your Conradian nightmare,

Go dance in that blackface.

But after the show, won’t get

your fare back, you’re still black.

Cathy Park Hong’s latest book is Engine Empire. She teaches at Sarah Lawrence College.

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