and if I was shoved in a basket
if my head was thrust under water
if I was told to walk and walk until my toes curled inward
and I had to beat my hands against your car window
until it broke, and glass became
all I could eat -- if my mouth was sliced
every which way, my tongue to the pavement --
I would still find a way to say
fuck you, I have more
to give, God,
and this blood for your blood
is gold.