Image of Poetry

I hear blood
families crying over a loved one’s
slain body in the street
The sirens are distant
but close enough to see
the strobing red, intimidating blue

I hear recognition
the colors wane as They realize
that They’re rounding into
the Negro neighborhood

I hear tomorrow’s headline
“Black on Black Violence
(so why riot about police brutality?)”
but that’s only if this life
is deemed newsworthy

I hear acceptance
feet shuffle from the scene
though I have some life left in me