Poem sixteen

Spring is upon us

in Cleveland

we are gearing up for summer

maybe it won’t be deadly this year

the people may have cookouts without the ambulance and police joining


won’t cry over spilled blood

may they not look at the news and see a loved one

a past lover

this summer the RNC is coming to Cleveland

downtown will be stomping grounds for the one percent

they will drive around in bulletproof cars with black chauffeurs

riding through our neighborhoods

judging us and taking notes

the middle of the summer tends to bend back and punch our throats

leaves us speechless death in our city

winds us up for the pitch

then drops the ball


blazes in and freezes out

we become shells of our former selves

we become mourning statues moving

the young girls grow bellies and give birth

young men don’t understand education is what will give them futures

spring is the precursor to the main event

where police sharpen their bullets and wait at stop signs to pull cars

over on the side of the road and smiling

they arrest people


transforms to another city

we still call it Cleveland.

It is always home.




About monalisasrandomthoughts

I craft people poems. I laugh out-loud. I love all things. Everything is about order. My movements are chess. Everything to me calculates. I just look like this.
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