Which heart shall it be tonight,
the fist, or the little lettuce?

One can, she says, rewrite the story so it
becomes a progress-tale , a Bildungsroman ,
at the end of which our protagonist,

Not male, not Jew. Impersonator, you
slink the kipa behind the Stetson, hat
the bully blond claims he wants to buy.

Phrase used by Whites to express their surprise and disapproval of social or political conditions which, to the Negro, are devastatingly usual. Often accompanied by an unsolicited touch on the forearm or shoulder, this ­expression is a favorite among the most politically liberal but socially comfortable of Whites. 

Sweet neighbor of the green forest 
Eternal guest of April in bloom 
Archenemy of the brambleberry 

In a filmy stench of slaughterhouse
I see the image of my body, half-naked,
ignored, almost dead. This is the way,

O barbarian’s pupil-eye encircled
by the sun-born verdure of the Po!
Italy has only one morning of life,

It isn’t May-like, this impure air
which darkens the foreigners’ dark
garden still more, then dazzles it

I saw my name in print the other day
with 1932 and then a blank
and knew that even now some grassy bank

in the black hood, 
come! Pierce 
my heart