And after the black boy is
strangled by police, after
the protests where the man,
his Rottweiler on an iron leash yells,
let's go mash up dis city;
and another crowd bulks,
the parents of the murdered
beg us not to become
the monsters some think
we already are—even when
the barista shakes her head
at the banners, says actually,
police be killing whites too.
Look how scary it is
to be here and know
if we die someone
will make a sound
like her before earth
is tipped over us.
Who hasn’t had enough?
Enough burning
bins, pushing
shopping trolleys
into static and sirens?
Who isn’t chanting
enough, enough,
enough, throwing spells,
the rebellious
holding what they can
in front of a supermarket
or police stations
or voting booths—I am
kind to the man
sitting next to me
in C.L.R James Library, even if
his breathing disturbs me.
Can we disagree graciously
I am tired of people
not knowing the volume
of their power. Who doesn’t
deserve
some silence at night?
Copyright © 2019 by Raymond Antrobus. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 27, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
English is your fourth language
the baby of the family
the one your mouth spoils
favorite by default
who may one day be sold off by its siblings
in hopes to never return
all of your other tongues have grown jealous
your country has over 200 dialects
that’s over 200 ways
to say Love
to say family
to say I am a song
to say I belong to something
that does not want to kill me
& does not want to siphon the gold from my
blood or the stories from my bones
Copyright © 2019 by Pages Matam. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 6, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
for oscar lópez rivera
you make two knots
so that years and names
can climb up or down
uniting thick and thin threads
simplicities and opacities
tense and resolved dialectics
your eyes are closed fists
that guide your hands
so the ribbon may last centuries
or until we have no need
to unleash forces
or unarm states
cuando amarras soga y cinta
para oscar lópez rivera
creas dos nudos
para que puedan subir o bajar
años y nombres
uniendo hebras gruesas y finas
simplicidades y opacidades
dialécticas tensas y resueltas
tus ojos son puños cerrados
que guían tus manos
para que la cinta dure siglos
o hasta que no haya necesidad
de desatar fuerzas
y desarmar estados
From x/ex/exis (poemas para la nación) (poems for the nation). Copyright © 2018 by Raquel Salas Rivera. Used with the permission of Bilingual Press.