South Diag

by A.E.

 

The sergeant on the stand asked if pepper spray is for self defense says it’s for compliance as we watch footage of his boys causing the brain damage your friend will carry with her forever,

And I’m ten inches from a security guard’s holster fighting the urge to do what the judge won’t when you reach for my hand instead.

Saeed Jones warned of being alive at the end of the world–

            I feel more like something bruised and feral in the womb of this new one,

               And we’re in a post-Roe timeline.

Body as trash somersaulting on the front lawn of the future,

My foot on the accelerator always inching too many miles over the speed limit like it’s something I  can outrun in your Volkswagen–

                          Midwestern anguish itching just under the skin.

Another friend rendered in pixels is struck by the baton on the big screen as the words cleanup job are echoed blandly from milk-white lips.

Did you tell her she was under arrest?

                                                                                                                                                 No ma’am.

Did she move back when she was asked to?

                                                                                                                                                 Yes ma’am.

Do you believe the use of force in this incident was proportional?

                                                                                                                                        Yes ma’am, I do.

Listen to the poem here: 

***

A.E. is an artist and scientist interested in the grotesque, the liminal, and the left-behind. They live in Ypsi.

***

This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].