The Militant Negro™

A Deal

Allison Grayhurst


A Deal


He spoke in half-measures,

justifying each moral-ill.

He spoke of relativity and of substance

in the greed of the superficial.

He spoke to me under the rooftops

of the rich, caressing me into believing

that there was no absolute truth,

demanding the fingerprints from my body and each drop

of my worldly self-worth.

He came to me with gifts for my children

and wanted my gratitude eternal, my nodding

and smiling and happy-go-lucky awe of each

of his earthly treasures.

He offered me ease without relief and

a Sunday-morning-only duty.

He brought me down, brought me into

his thick shadow for a day. For a day

he confused my heart away

from its steadfast meat, fragmented my mind

at the feet of his brittle god.


Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” August 2015


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