My fingers are tired of tweeting hashtags that carry names whose bodies lay in caskets.
That’s all they seem to do lately.
It’s funny how
My tongue has memorised carefully each syllable of their name
Re/ki/a
Ste/phon
Bang! There
Bang! Goes
Bang! Another
Bang! Body
Their memory
Is dying in the minds of many.
Their blood is venged for two days
And then forgotten.
We are privileged enough
To be alive to still mourn their death
My skin is worried it will follow this fate
That a gun will be the last thing to meet my eye
Or not even,
And that the metal will be forgiven over my breath
And that I will be another body
Gone.
2020 was a terrifying time to be Black ngl.
To be anyone really, but especially to be Black.