Wrong House
Her name is Breonna
Taylor, for the event of her murder
can never change that she
existed. Asleep in bed,
door knocked in with
battering ram, splinter of wood
charged about house like
shotgun blast. Startled
into waking. Intruders
pressing forward, legally
issued firearm discharged
as advocated to protect
from home invasion.
Invaders happen to be cops,
neither announcing, nor
knocking, because judge
said they didn’t need to.
In darkness cop and criminal
interchangeable, by light
of day appears case to,
for many, for some, for
enough.
Cops said, with a shrug,
Oops
wrong house.
Her name is Breonna
Taylor, born of a sin of being Black
which is no sin, but
saddled as though it was, as citizenry
ignore that they don’t
see color, are blinded to it, but racism
has eyes, and full
spectrum of color. Hard truth,
to admit personal responsibility
is out of your hands.
Cops said as much, as
they opened fire, shooting,
at least, Eight Times,
into Miss Taylors body. Covered,
secure in blankets, but blankets
only protect children
from imaginary dangers,
pretend violence, not violence
that finds Black bodies
dispensable, as young men
executed for grown men
crimes, and men executed
for no crime at all,
other than being born Black. And Breonna
forgotten because she’s
Black, no photograph to jar
citizenry into action, to
plaster, and demand action.
Cops said, Oops, wrong
house,
as if it cemented
validation for executing a human
being.
Her name is Breonna
Taylor, and it isn’t just the cops,
it’s the Us & Media
fear mongering for years that our neighbors
over on Martin Luther
King Boulevard, in Martin Luther King
schools, in the Ghettos,
in the Heights, as if the Dream
was finished and now they
could just go about demonizing,
offering stricter
reactions, to similar offenses of White neighbors.
And we, pretending our
attitudes weren’t racist, you and I,
in these non-black
communities, worried about Gangs, and Crime,
listening to persistent
attitudes put upon, using poor
biased, racist social
science to determine Black wanted
to be with Black, and
that this was a Black problem, and by connection,
by default, by process of
elimination that they wanted
to be eliminated too.
Cops said, Oops
wrong house, tossing up
hands as though
that was it, but we
citizens, scared that Black bodies would
encroach upon our
neighborhood lawns, okayed
decimation of schools, of
communities, and huddled
Black bodies together,
and deprived them of services,
of social, of schooling,
of funding, and blamed Them,
because we were scared
crime was coming to our schools.
Her name was Breonna
Taylor. Worked in an emergency room,
helping people, despite
skin colors, despite anything
other than the knowledge
that inside we bled the same,
but its not enough to
know that. In the name
of protecting Our
children, we kept Black bodies
where they belonged, and
acknowledged growing
crime statistics, and
blamed it on being Black, instead of blaming
it on disadvantages over
centuries, attitudes over centuries,
that not only came
externally, but felt internally,
as we pretended to
listen. And the cops kept saying,
Oops, Oops, Oops. Like Children.
Breonna Taylor is not an
oops, she is not an accident,
George Floyd is not an
oops, he is not an accident,
he was a Black man trying
to make it, to cash the check
King asked be cashed,
that he demanded America
make good on, and he executed
too. Black Lives Matter,
it is time to stop
throwing up hands in defense
and speaking, I’m not
racist, as though
America got here on an Oops,
the trajectory
has been constant, and by
the numbers,
by the cold face of
history,
and we keep saying Oops.
America is racist, it is
time to stop
sugar coating blood
stains of history,
crystallized white powder
that absorbs the blood
of a violent nation.
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