I am

Sitting in a park

When I hear the call of a lark

The buzzing of the bees

The squirrels in the trees

I am

Reading a book

When I hear a click

So I

Turn and look

An officer

Is holding a thick

Black handle


On the metallic trigger

Then I’m dead

Maybe in his head

He thought the book I held in my hand

Would be used to kill a man

Simply reading a book

But I guess the White cop

Simply saw me as a crook

And so now they mop

My blood, while my wife


A tear and my children

Are told by the media

That their father is a villain

The academia

Attempts to dissect what I did wrong

Meanwhile the lark’s song

Is a mourning for the death

Of my last breath

And the cop high fives his buddy cop

While tears still drop

From my family’s eyes

Because my despised

Black skin

Caused me

To die


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