Rogues

Rogues

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Who Are You Wearing?

Although designed with me in mind,
And spaces made-to-fit for me and mine,
Despite being tailored for generations unfolding
- this country don’t look right on me…
Maybe it’s the molding,
‘Cuz the profile in the bodice isn’t holding,
Tight around shoulders and no solutions in sight for the collar slowly closing.
- this country don’t feel right ‘cuz we are wolves in sheep’s clothing…
Dangerously mix-matched and never truly blending.
Misfit since infancy,
We legion of quiet soldiers, silent infantry
Pressed uncomfortably against seams conceived
To be worn by someone with different genes.
- I am just too Haitian for my calves to fit in these jeans!
This country and my contours come at a constant cross-purpose.
Convinced my cuts can produce colors for these clothes,
I know those who bleed my dye
Might die,
Face-to-face with bleach…
With police.
This is only a test, I must be on display.
For sure,
These cutting-edge social programs are government couture…
Out of touch designers with vision so avant-garde
Consumers are alienated and put on guard.
- this country positively clashes with my politics.
But how wondrous and grand!
For me to be unsettled was part of the plan, my friend.
Disrobed and naked holding a placard that reads, “I Am A Man”, again.
More troubling still, I can’t tell if I am the model or the mannequin.


Which stands to reason,
When one notes revolution went out of vogue last season.