Ashanti White

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The Third Kind

We are aliens

not of this earth.

We don't live

by the same civilized codes

that determine humanity

We are where rape is more likely

than second grade.

We perish in volumes

like fumigated cockroaches

in refurbished high-rises

and are regarded

with the forced ignorance

of a new acquaintance

visiting on a Saturday afternoon

and decides it would be impolite to stare.

Our cries are lost in the airlessness

between meteors.

We have the sunken eyes

and hallowed cheeks

of the third kind

and a few whisper of us

with the same forgetful sensation

of Roswell.

Most don't believe we exist.

We do.

We are aliens.

Darfur is another planet

and our rivers run red here.

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