June 6, 2020Middle of ProtestingPrince Bush

It’s curfew near J. Percy Priest

Dam, and the tear gas buttress cracks

Down the convex close to cresting

Due to thermal stress. My eyes kindle

With milk coolant. All I need is regard

To water. The hurt’s polysyllabic, so I call

Them CN and CS gasses for short. The second

Of which forces my eyes closed: solution,

Make me want to breathe

For five minutes, and I’ll open them.

I tell the state I’m going home,

But I forgot I’d need a detour

With all the bridges I knew broken

And reconstructed with brown violence

Tanks through the welts on my torso,

Brown-violet, vice versa. If I sting

A red onion with a knife, pickle it

With household vinegar, or acetic acid,

That would cause tears, and lachrymators

Would’ve steamed the complex, thus

I attempt eating opposite ingredients

With the fork, table, and chair melting.

I’ve yet to find a reusable mask

And now it needs a charcoal filter,

The things thrown at me first organic,

Then synthetic solid, liquid, and fog.