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.