Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The Cell

arms up
hands clasped behind her head

she affects nonchalance

yet squirms...

-- thinned out,
as though flattened
under a plate
on a glass slide.

These are not tears
(Saline agar)

phage Doubt --
bacterium of fear.


So when we meet the Beast
We shall met him with dignity, with grace --
With voices upraised in song.

(for Ms. Sandra Bland in Heaven)

1 comment:

  1. Notes predate Ms. Bland's demise -- they're from before that incident, in pencil on typing paper. Thin paper.

    Feel free to Tumblr or Google+ it -- I'm not turning on the high speed internet until the morning, anyway... Just cleaning up my room.