I really enjoy this poem as a declaration that talk of racism is
tiresome and irrelevant, buoyed only by momentum and vested interests. I
counsel against two "he says". I look for something more dynamic to
replace "poisons joy". I would not expect to hear a person say "endue".
I like the way the poem insinuates, in the title, that a poem about the
putative plight of the masses is in the works, and then shifts our
attention away to something more colorful. -Carl
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Black Britain
Seventy percent of the clothes here / are black, he says.
Do not wear black, / he says, your eyes breathe it in. / It poisons joy.
Black gives you the blues and blues / endue black feelings. / He wraps
himself in gold and orange.
On Mondays, / Moondays, / he wears grey and silver,
but never black.
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