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A Poem

Coming to a Ferguson Near You

by JOSE M. TIRADO

Lifted from the normally arthritic corridors of his suffering, he listened,

Aghast as all the asinine assumptions about loss and death,

About race and riots were spoken from rube mouths

Unaware of anything but pseudo-cerebral responses and knee-jerk assumptions.

Trembling, he moved to the couch, unaware of anything but the TV drone

And watched hour after hour the lack of leadership,

The loss of community, and the wild pairings popping up:

“Black” is “violent”, “they” are “thugs”, “we” need “police”;

They all were wrong. Sleepless, he led his sorrow around

And around the house until, exhausted,

It finally burst outwards, graphic, loud, lurid, even,

As his naked butt flapping in the frisky night air

Was the trigger which impelled the police that evening

To unload fourteen bullets into the body

Of one naked man, raving about injustice.

Rev. José M. Tirado is a poet, priest, psychologist, and political writer living in Iceland.  He can be reached at jm.tirado@yahoo.com.