Song of Whiteout and Backache

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1

Well I’m so white,

when the lights go out, I glow in the dark.

 

So white, when I wear white clothes

all you see

are the stripes on my socks.

 

White

as the sun’s bare rays—iron-heavy

and hot.

 

White as the grass that’s decomposed,

bleached-away

by a leaf pile.

 

2

Well I’m so black

when I walk at night

I absorb all the light of the stars.

 

So black—I can’t drink milk, sing

White Christmas,

drive a white car.

 

Black

as a vinyl record—issuing song,

not blood.

 

Black—as the ocean’s

depths, where fish swerve: translucent,

unreal.

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