Trayvon’s Fake Witness
To the tune of
Patsy Cline’s “She’s Got You”
I’ve got to say something
to Diamond Eugene.
It’s already past
time for you to come clean,
Trayvon’s best
witness,
The race merchants
knew,
Might have used your
name, but she’s not you.
That girl
outweighs you by almost nine stone,
And that was not
her voice that we heard on the phone.
A dull imitation;
The media knew:
The girl on the
stand there was surely not you.
You were
two-timing Trayvon, and he went mad,
And it’s so sad
That your bad, bad
boy lost his head.
At least to your
credit, you wouldn’t lie,
So they found a poor
stand-in to give it a try.
Trayvon’s best
witness,
The race merchants knew,
Might have used your
name, but she’s not you.
You were
two-timing Trayvon, and he went mad,
And it’s so sad
that your bad, bad boy lost his head.
They’re still stoking a race war; you tell me why
That they seem so
hell bent to see democracy die.
Oh, Trayvon’s best
witness,
The race merchants knew,
Might have used your
name, but she’s not you.
David Martin
Home
page Poetry Poetry
Archive 15 Contact