The Gatekeepers at that Southern Master’s program
Required a photo and I complied –
My pale white face a handy asset for acceptance,
My pale white conscience pricked to take an oath
Of “never such again” in any case.
And there I was, incongruously
Inserted among the insiders, the Right Kind.
We’re now ensconced in connotation –
No photographs – the Gatekeepers just make
Polite, insistent demands for the reassurance
Of paper credentials and tip-offs from
Details of the style of life –
It helps them figure out, you know,
Just who to open up those gates for.
