rgibbons | Poetry Vibe
rgibbons

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I was murdered in my bed

CATEGORY

life

Views: 328

I was murdered in my bed

(the assassination of Fred Hampton)

 

every time I lay

asleep those dream

manumissions escape

marooned  mental

mountains waiting unlock

the underground railroad

 

there are no freedom riders

no abolitionist

one hidden history book

shelved electronic-hand children

dare not touch teachers

delve for fear of standard

a monthly quota

 

asleep night sweat

frigid Chicago wind  east

plants seeds of suspicion

each time I dream

time ticks before

the day’s light conspires

chance to redeem myself

 

might as well sleep

past  the man  still

picking dried chicken

bones from the trash

can on Thanksgiving

still haunts me 

it  is so easy

to take it all away

those pig’s feet boil

on Nostrand Avenue

children resembling gang

stir parade faux guns

 

Robert Gibbons

robertgibbons54@gmail.com

 

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