This poem is a response to the photo prompt above from Friday Fictioneers.
It is also influenced by recent events: the killing of George Floyd at the hands of the Minneapolis police, and the resultant furor in the streets.
This poem made me think of a white suburbanite, busy with her own life and only barely aware of what is going on, closer into town. I imagined that in her lily-white world, there might be no reason to get upset about it. And I wondered, what that indifference might say, about her.
The city streets erupt.
I hire a painter, watch his toes,
As further up the rungs he goes.
He’s done before I sup.
The city’s turmoil seethes.
I wander round my garden bed,
A thousand notions in my head,
And contemplate the leaves.
The city’s blood is spilt.
My knees are cozy-cushioned. Small
White indentations in black soil
Don’t bother me, a bit.
Much like the Christ-child’s foot
Upon the snake, upon its neck
(Enough to kill it, I suspect)
All in the name of Good,
This weed, I’ll wrench up by the root.
A cull will do it good.
Copyright 2020 Andrea LeDew
For another poem on the subject of the recent Black Lives Matter Protests, see Dominate.