He cried out for his mom,
pleading to air and asphalt
for the long dead
crushing the country into another
momentary island of waking.
A man casually took the life of another,
In front of everyone
and if you fall for the distraction of the uniform
you may miss the message of its privilege:
convenient castration.
The world watched
blocks burned, begetting
nearly nine full minutes of kneeling
in four centuries,
until, inevitable, watchful
eye for complicity
it’s contrived compromises
and corporate messaging
begin to yawn and stretch
to the shallow shrugs of
carefully crafted contempt.
Cold, rushing oblivion.
OMG, Christopher, this is incredible. Raw, passionate, hurting, true. I hope you send it out. Love to you, P
Very powerful. And stunning in all senses of the word. Thank you, (Miss you at the workshop!)
[…] Society, a social group to support Black writers in the Pioneer Valley, read a poem called ‘The Talk‘ which was inspired by his trying to imagine how he would explain the issues of race to […]