Why Black Boys Hate Trees by Aden Mandel

Black boys grow like ragged tree roots,

burrowing through the dirt to tussle with concrete:

cracked: now weaseling through to lie caked on

the sidewalk. Black boys grow like

moss on those eucalyptus, emerging from soft,

damp air, where they feed and fuck and spread

other little black boys. Black boys grow like dead

twigs, where, dreadlocks first, they are uploaded

into pliable wood, sagging, holding on by the

same locks that are tied around their necks.

Black boys do not open their eyes.

Black boys do not need to breathe.

Black boys do not need love.

What black boys? I’ve never seen any black boys. 

Nope. You mean those things lying/hanging

over there?