Alone in the theater, it is not the first 2 hours
that bother me, I cringed at the Mandingo
fight, let the dogs ripping apart a man turn sour
in my stomach but it is the Tarantino cameo I single
out for disturbance. It is the smile, the grin
he fashions holding dynamite as if the slaves
in their cage had not been ripped from their kin,
their humanity, still more to lose if they don't behave.
In all of this, it is the laughter from my fellow
patrons, mostly white, staring at another white
actor laughing at three terrified black cellos
plucked until their ribs have run out of fight.
Afterwards I call my wife, who is prone
to anger, you should wait, it will be better at home.