They say a lot of things…
they say a rising tide lifts all boats.
They say policing quality of life issues
(broken windows, sad panhandlers)
will raise all boats.
They say the eyes
are the windows of the soul;
if the soul has broken windows
that’s the fault of the face they’re in
and we should police them
right into the big clean up…
they say a lot of things…a lot of things…
They say the path to a man’s heart
runs through his stomach.
They say center mass
is the best way to aim.
They say the surest path to the heart
is to aim for it directly
and if the heart shot misses
then a gut shot kills too,
slowly but certainly,
especially if you can wait hours for it
they say a lot of things, along with so many things
they don’t say…
they say race is a social construct.
They don’t say they built it to bind and blind and kill.
They say all lives matter.
They don’t say how they define “all.”
They say it’s best to be polite if you have to scream.
They don’t say much, politely or otherwise, when someone does…
they say so many things,
they never shut up,
they don’t say enough
when they’re talking,
they say what we should do,
they don’t say what they will do,
they don’t say they’ll stop
wringing their hands
or sitting on them
and put them to use,
they don’t say they say so much by saying so much,
by saying so little…behind it all
a white sheet,
brown shirt, gun hand
they hear it…no, they don’t hear it…
they hear it…no, they don’t…
then they tell us
to forget it
and get over it
it’s all in our heads, in our
hear what they want,
drown the rest
all that clatter
like a storm of broken windows,
every last word
a window shard seeking
its coat of blood.