We are not
extinct, though I thinkmyself into the past.
You wake upin the middle
of the night certainthere is someone
outside your window,afraid
that we will do to youwhat you’ve done to us.
A bullet
sneaking through thetrees, smallpox-infected
blankets presented to youas housewarming gifts—this threat of painis worse
than the pain itselfand when I speak
it’s to make you ache.
Top photo by irem ışıklar on Pexels
“What if we took all this anger born of righteous love and aimed it?”
—Ijeoma Olou, “We women can be anything. But can we be angry?” Medium.com
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