Self Portrait
I would be
A painter with words
Creating sharp portraits
On the wide canvas of your mind
Images of those things
Shaped through my eyes
That interest me;
But being a Tenth American
In this democracy
I sometimes sketch a miniature
Though I contract for a mural.
Of course
You understand this democracy;
One man as good as another,
From log cabin to White House,
Poor boy to corporation president,
Hoover and Browder with one vote each,
A free country,
Complete equality—
Yeah—
And the rich get tax refunds,
The poor get relief checks.
As for myself
I pay five cents for a daily synopsis of current history,
Two bits and the late lowdown on Hollywood,
Twist a dial for Stardust or Shostakovich,
And with each bleacher stub I reserve the right to shout “kill the bum” at the umpire
Wherefore am I different
From nine other Americans?
But listen, you
Don’t worry about me
I rate!
I’m Convert 4711 at Beulah Baptist Church,
I’m Social Security No. 337-16-3458 in Washington,
Thank you Mister God and Mister Roosevelt!
And another thing:
No matter what happens
I too can always call in a policeman!
Notes:
“Self Portrait” originally appeared in 47th Street: Poems (Decker Press, 1948) and is from Black Moods: Collected Poems (University of Illinois Press, 2002). © 2002 Board of Trustees. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press.
This poem is part of the portfolio “As Direct as Good Blues: Frank Marshall Davis.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the December 2023 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(December 2023)
