They ask me to spell it out for them
So I tell them that she was black
She had a bullet lodged in her before she was even born
A target on her back
I tell them that all she ever wanted was to get away
And now she'll be stuck forever
Buried in a town that killed her
I tell them how she wore her skin like a dress of gold
That she looked like the moon on a beautiful night
That she had a million possibilities ahead of her
I tell them that she had a brother and a mother and a father
That she loved them more than her heart could take
I tell them that she had me
I loved her like a wildfire
That I held her in my arms
As I watched her blood blend in with the broken road
And sat in the headlights of a policeman's car
Who shot my girl after pulling us over
Because a black girl was driving in the dark
I tell them that they asked her for her license and registration and that she asked for some time but instead what she got
Was a bullet in the spine
And the shoulder
And the back of her head
I tell them how I held my baby girl
As she slipped away
I tell them how a white man in uniform
Sat on a curb with his head in his hands
After he'd shot a
Sister
Daughter
Lover
For being black
YOU ARE READING
We Can Still Dance
PoetryIn this world, there are painters and writers, teachers and philosophers. Theorists and dancers. People. Complex, enigmatic, people like you and me. People with stories. This book is a collection of poems, based on events experienced by anyone an...
