After Watching The Hate U Give
She shouted
what her dad told her
and her brothers
since she was nine
what to do–
Let them see your hands!
Don't argue!
Don't reach into
the glove compartment!
He didn't listen
reached over the seat
to grab his hairbrush
the last moment of his life
flashing past him
before the loud bangs
the shots in the chest
the spill of blood
the hairbrush
all he had in his hand
Was the kid very wise
for what he did
at that pivotal moment?
Perhaps not
Did he deserve to die?
No
I don’t care if the kid
was an A student or not
if he ever dealt drugs
what he would have
grown up to become
His death is a tragedy
a loss of precious life
an injustice which
would not have occurred
had it not been
for the color of his skin
The Last Hour
We were the cool Asians
mixing mini skirts and wine coolers
with chemical formulae
polysyllabic vocabulary
Our differences were always there–
you and your solid-colored polo shirts
blue jeans
penchant for math and science
Me and my velvet hats
floral dresses
purple stockings and shoes
my forte arts and literature
Still, I waved my pom poms at you
addressed my speech to you
at graduation–
the last hour of our life together
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment