We can be blind for some things.
I remember midnight porch swings, inking
our eyes closed, listening to the pitch of
our firefly secrets in this seedtime, scattering
cautions, caffeine in our teeth, awake among
Not in the light of day when
pedestrians clutch building facades, tired of
pretending safety on a sidewalk, when
bodies wearing motor oil stain a city street.
Why must we continue in this deadly fashion?
Lullabied by a man with so much to hide, singing
pig’s blood and bullets, blanketing us in
the southern cross, rocking the rhythm of
The Lost Cause, like we are already
You cannot alabaster us. Our history
has villains, for we were them, too. And now is
the time to hero ourselves. We will outlast your
attempts to ossify. Our hearts soften for fellow
sufferers, survivors, beat counter to his cradle,
to his crimes. We cannot be blind.
Emily Reid Green’s poetry has appeared in Dying Dahlia Review, Khroma Magazine, The Ekphrastic Review, and Gravel. This past spring, she was a sponsored poet with Tiferet Journal. She lives with her family in Toledo, Ohio.