The Proper Courage
Even if we try the impossible
not to witness no matter how
hard we bury necks in the sand
clay-pack ears against moisture
stick razor-clams in retinas hope
to not see the flotilla barricading
when the neighbor’s boy, just eighteen
is hauled from bed and dragged through
night town not a curtain stirs
no door-hinge squeak
when they rag-dolled Grandpa Freddy
on the side-walk his dementia already
in total control of body and skull
splattered like a raw egg yolk
sure we filed suits signed the proper petitions
contacted the appropriate local agencies
all afraid in the dark line waiting
for divine mercy to be exhumed
***
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