Dear Trayvon,

We should be rioting in the streets
But it’s raining.
We should be banging our fists
****** against the locked doors
Of state buildings screaming justice!
But the tea kettle is on and
I had one too many drinks last night, so.

I feel guilty for the protection of patriarchy, for never
Wondering as I walk home in the evenings
Who will shoot me
For my skin,
For never waking up at night from
The nightmare picture of my son’s killer
Smiling as he walks free.

They pretended this was
About youth violence and
Text messages and
Self defense, which is like saying
Matthew Shepard was about a broken fencepost
And the Holocaust was about the right
of innocent Nazis to collect gold fillings
From shattered jewish teeth.
You were black.
You were black. And being black
In America makes you threatening
And being scared
of a teenager turns ****** into
Neighborly behavior.

And I will never have to worry
About someone protecting themselves
From the threat of my skin.
So I will never have to question
My complicity in a country
That would rather shoot down
Than stand for
Its young men.
So I will stand outside
Drinking tea and letting the rain cry for me
While I beat my fists against nothing
And by the morning you will
Already be forgotten
Just like all the other
Beautiful threatening boys
We never cared enough to know.