You won’t answer

when we drop to our knees,

submit.

A boy shot in the street

for wearing a hooded sweatshirt.

Still you won’t answer

when we march and picket,

rising.

Unsullied water is a rarity to Flint,

some can’t remember the taste.

Still you won’t answer

when we lift our hands and it goes

too far.

Stop covering your eyes, America,

raise your hand to your heart, America,

and praise that star-spangled banner.