as a man of African descent
I am no Uncle Tom
never have been
but I feel like my mind,
and experience within this structure
has made me America’s
in the colonial age of Britain,
Tim was a boy
innocent like all children
but this boy was special
special in the attention he would come to receive
the job he would be expected to perform
and the death he would succumb to once he had outlived that purpose
A Tim was defined as
a British child/infant, raised/groomed/bred to be molested
and then they killed him
Tim was the act of savagery and a propensity to dominate
satiating the barbaric thirsts and appetites of men his senior
bent, broken, and contorted to their will and pleasure
Tim was an inside joke
even a nickname
for those who were subjugated-
subjected to the prone position of being dominated
the nickname of those expected to,
bend over, and take it- as a matter and manner of fact
because money made them mighty
and might made them right
therefore for the right price
anything, and I mean anything
could become, “right”
if I question my identity
my history
and my role in America
I’m met with exasperation of appall
as if it is absurd to some, or many, still
to become anything more
than America’s Tim
the truth sometimes hurts so bad
humor is created as a means of defiance
and coping
my cell mate’s mother was a prostitute
this was her joke in naming her son Timothy
she understood the short of it would be,
Tim
because it is how she felt
and she knew men and America, with a dark intimacy
she knew what that name may conjure in the subconscious-
of some good ol’ men
the day her son would sign up for school or a job
maybe even with sadistic laughs
since civility is a force of etiquette and politeness
appearing to be more than what is hidden beneath
as if whom they allow to surface is all anyone ever is,
his grandmother told him one day
wait til you find out what your name means
ask your mother
questions of his parents color, and if he was adopted
always asked as he grew up
so when she laughed, and divulged that poignant truth
he hated her for it
and made sure to become anything but that!
but a Tim-
someone expected to accept anything as truth
just bending over to take the lies
in what ever form the are delivered
what he didn’t think of was
the pain of his mother to name her child that
as a trauma invoked act of defiance
fed by the shame of her being and livelihood
probably forced upon her as well
and somewhere deep inside maybe hoping too,
that her son would be, anything
but a Tim
a hidden love
a love given by reversal
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