Dear Santa


Santa art for Penda 2


By Penda Smith


Dear Santa


I don’t expect to wake up to presents,

I don’t expect to see you coming down a chimney,


Cuz we ain’t got one,

Not in these projects,

Residing in the heart of Harlem,

Where poverty knows claws ,

Knows peeling,

And cracking of walls,

Where mouths drool,

Where hunger strikes,

Where money got amnesia.

You got amnesia,

You forgot to visit last year,

And the year before that,

And the year before that,

Even when I left the last dripping milk,

And stale cookies,

I woke

Empty plate,

No presents.

I don’t expect you be visiting tomorrow,

Cuz we aint got a chimney.

But in case you remember us this year,

The cookies and milk are on the counter,

And the front door is open.