growing in the

roots of a tree

with bark as

scales or the

eyelids that cover

the sap filled

bags of milk

we carry in

our branch,

twig, and

cotton craters.

we occupy

the trees

of Niger in

hopes of

economic

uprising, we

occupy with

froth loving

hound dogs and

racism,

we occupy

with ethnocentrism

and a mindset of a

50-year-old white

man from Tuscan,

we occupy with

the fervor

of Olympians

to run in all

directions

catching any

dark skin we can

find, putting a

spear to their back

to claim

the soil was native

to our heels.

we flush worldly

matter down

an unclean

water pipe

into the seas,

manifested

with pounds of

oil.

all of the sudden,

the united states

and imperialism sound

more like a couple

than cousins.