March 5, 2023After My Step-Brother Gets Shot and Killed by Cops in Milwaukee
The day after she sees her son
dragged from the street like roadkill,
my step-mother returns to work.
My father tries to stop her,
afraid she might end up serving
the same men they saw on the news,
implacable Confederate statues
finally granted an excuse to open
their holsters—but right now,
she’d rather hear the cash register
than her own heartbeat.
And so for hours, she fills bags
with sandwiches plumed in lettuce
and tiny cauldrons of broth,
black forks with brittle tines,
white napkins that stain so easily,
pausing sometimes to dab her eyes
or silence a buzzing phone.
Strangers ask if she’s all right.
Just something I’m dealing with,
she says, then takes what they give
and returns what they’re owed.
from Poets Respond