summer2005 v1.2

In this issue...

At the edge of my bed
I watch my baby sleep
Soft dark curls
Breath gentle and deep.

My TV glows
Atrocities revealed through the calm words of a blonde news anchor.
Cut to a live video feed.
"These women," she says shaking her head.
"These people. These women in need."

At the edge of my bed
I stare at the screen.
Cold.
Unable to care.
Wondering where the blonde reporter was when Ayanna got raped.
And why wasn’t he on the Action News at 9?
There were no news trucks here.
I wrap myself in my pain. Drape it around my shoulders,
Angered that they’ve asked me to care
About those women over there.

The blonde woman frowns.
Cut to the live video feed.
"This baby," she says. "This baby in need."
A little girl. Chubby and brown.
Her cries shrill and persistent.
Eyes cast down.
I stop and look.
That baby
That baby sounds like mine.
Another shot of her.
A wide toothless grin.
The giggle. The coo. The whine.
That baby sounds like mine.
That little girl
That baby is mine.

And at the edge of my bed,
The walls of my apartment crack and fall.
Icy gust of wind extinguishes my neighborhood streetlights
Toppling the borders of, my state my country, my town
Until there is only
My world.