Connor and Jack explore the poem "Tenebris" by the great Harlem Renaissance writer Angelina Weld Grimké. They discuss the poem's powerful meanings on white supremacy during Jim Crowe, the poem's haunting final question, and the relationship between audience and ambiguity. Learn more about Grimké here: https://www.britannica.com/biography/Angelina-Weld-Grimke Find us on Facebook at: facebook.com/closetalking  Find us on Twitter at: twitter.com/closetalking  Find us on Instagram: @closetalkingpoetry You can always send us an e-mail with thoughts on this or any of our previous podcasts, as well as suggestions for future shows, at [email protected]. Tenebris By: Angelina Weld Grimké There is a tree, by day, That, at night, Has a shadow, A hand huge and black, With fingers long and black. All through the dark, Against the white man's house, In the little wind, The black hand plucks and plucks At the bricks. The bricks are the color of blood and very small. Is it a black hand, Or is it a shadow?

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“What did the council decide on item 42?” — answered with the speaker and the moment.

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