Friday, May 29, 2020

Broken

My friend’s father, 
white
and wealthy, 
discharged his gun 
into the dirt
and the trespassers
stopped painting mud lines 
across his fields 
long enough 
to send him 
to jail.
Also white
also wealthy,
and bored in the ways 
their privilege 
bought for them, 
they claimed 
deadly weapons 
and assault, 
although no one 
was touched, 
no blood pooled 
between broken stalks. 
Across the country, 
another man, 
with a gun 
strapped to his side, 
killed a black man 
with his knee, 
and went home 
for dinner. 

No comments:

Post a Comment