Cross

My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
If ever I cursed my black old mother
And wished she were in hell,
I'm sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder were I'm going to die,
Being neither white nor black?

More poems by Langston Hughes

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Because my mouth / Is wide with laughter

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When the shoe strings break / On both your shoes

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I could take the Harlem night / and wrap around you,

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Tell all my mourners / To mourn in red --

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