The Thirteens (Black)*

Your Momma took to shouting
Your Poppa’s gone to war,
Your sister’s in the streets,
Your brother’s in the bar,
The thirteens. Right On.

Your cousin’s taking smack
Your Uncle’s in the joint,
Your buddy’s in the gutter
Shooting for his point
The thirteens. Right on.

And you, you make me sorry
You out here by yourself,
I’d call you something dirty,
But there just ain’t nothing left,
cept
The thirteens. Right On.

*Source: The Poetry of Maya Angelou. New York: Quality Paperback Books, 1990. 46.

© 1994 NSU Press © 1994-1999 Rodney Lain.

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