While Watching The Baltimore Protests On Television, Poets On The Internet Argue Over Another Article Declaring “Poetry Is Dead”

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I mean is it really dead did we watch its mother pull its limp husk from the mouth of a night that it walked into living are there one hundred black hands carrying its casket through the boulevard did it die in a city that no one could find until fire drank from the walls of its abandoned homes did broken glass rain onto the streets in its memory did people weep at the shatter did people cry for the convenience store and forget the corpse did the reek of rising gas drain the white from a child’s eyes did we stop speaking its dead name when a fist was thrown do we even remember what killed it anymore I think it was split at its spine but I can’t recall I just woke up one day with this new empty can we uproot the body and drag it through the streets will people love it again if we lay it at the boots of those who last saw it alive are we calling it dead because white men got bored with its living what does this mean for us now who will be left to bend the sunrise into a chorus how will we harvest enough skin to pull tight over a wooden face who is going to ready the drum

 

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About Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib is from Columbus, Ohio. He is a pushcart nominated poet, and the author of Sons Of Noah, a chapbook forthcoming from Tired Hearts Press in 2014. His poems have been featured in Radius, Vinyl, Freezeray, joINT, Borderline, and other journals that are far too kind. He thinks poems can save the world, but also just really wants to talk to you about music and sports. View all posts by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

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