the
pain is in the color. we assume
anxiety.
another kid was murdered.
many
seek facts, by dear nausea, we
argue
over perspective.
there
are saws for cutting into piles of
wood,
clarity is unstable. life is
devalued,
souls are entangled, we drink mace,
bullets,
or one-sided combats: bodies
drugged
to mothers, fathers at funerals, a
twenty-year-old
son has died. like mantis
we
pray, some say it’s futile,
sanity
is delicate. so easy to
just
insist, so easier to die, some
form
of strategy is overdue.
such
law-sickness, in a hostile environment,
officers
suffer from PTSD.
a tale
about intolerance, cultural
empathy,
people of color resume
defenses:
hard to look in mirrors, hard
to
feel valued, we give, seemingly not
enough.
the might is up those flags, are on
high,
it’s simple to hate color.
something is raw, tethered,
angry. swift
quickness to kill,
nothing much over the
Capitol. a few
arrests. favored insurrection.
better, if they
listen, they live. so hard
to see it, to
wonder about thoughts, when
asked to
surrender. most know the routine.
conversation isn’t
an option. so
comply quickly.
tempers are high,
racism is
spread-out, officers are
tired, depressed,
angry, forced to keep
pushing. (this becomes
toxicity.)
