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Rain taps on roof and window, making me remember
you, making me forget water is clear, not blue.
Copyright © 2015 by Anthony Walton. This poem was first printed in Black Renaissance Noire, Vol. 15, Issue 1 (Spring–Summer 2015). Used with the permission of the author.
At Shaw’s Market the lobster tank sits
to the right of the fish counter, just left
of the freezer with the fish sticks and frozen
perch. Therein lie the lobsters, stacked like
so many traps, brackish and silent, their pincers
rendered useless, wrapped shut tight in yellow
plastic. Scuttled into these briny and light-dulled
I am who I am
younger than you
might think though
older than I
thought possible
Like everybody
I like sunsets
hiking, baseball
and movies; also
were the Lord
in His wisdom
Watts Riot, 1965
They had waited so long, they had given up too soon.
So much smog, smoke, haze the clearest blue was grey.
They had waited so long, they had given up too soon.
As if three hundred years had fallen to one day.