Collective Unrest

 

a sonnet for george zimmerman’s wife

August 8, 2018

i’ve slept with many monsters
woken up beside ogres big fangs flashing
ready to gobble me up whole
wondering where the man i loved went
there were nights i spent hiding
wrapped in quilts stuttering to officers
that i did not want to file a police report
we are women. we speak the language of agony

when did you know he was past rosaries
sellin the gun? he’d sell a piece of that boy if he could
string him up high start the bidding
did you press palms to what organ beat inside him
wonder how God wonder why
did you say eva say enuff baby enuff?

 

tmstringfellow (Tara Stringfellow) is a poet, novelist, and an attorney, originally from both Memphis, Tennessee and Okinawa, Japan. Third World Press published her first collection of poetry entitled More than Dancing in 2008. Nominated for a Pushcart Prize, her poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Best Emerging Poets of Illinois, Best of the Net Anthology, Jet Fuel Review, Minerva Rising, Women’s Arts Quarterly, Apogee Journal, Transitions Magazine, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, Chicago Magazine, decomp, and Prompt, among others. The author was Northwestern University’s first MFA graduate in both poetry and prose. Signed with HSG Agency in New York, she is currently completing her first novel she’s calling Memphis.

Please follow and like us:
Newer Post

Spider Silk

For the victims of the Orlando Pulse Shootings It’s a hundred degrees, but the air feels cold; The devil hoarded all the heat to fuel his fire Spitting out sparks of the spawn of satan, Who masquerade ecclesiastical attire. I…
Read
Older Post

The Human Experience

To Chris Abani You promised a poem and you came Just as I was tucking the kids in bed. You show me a few words: Fear, loneliness, passion, heartache Of a man my age, same status From their side of…
Read
Random Post

The Familiar

Among the useless items— a stuffed dodo, wondrously opaque and clear-eyed, a black hole dug around your nested ear. Gregor, I christen you, leaving my human oils on your fragile beak. I am sorry, Gregor, that Bees Maid and borax,…
Read
Random Post

CRI DE COEUR

I’m tired of all those old white men in Washington, and I’m tired of hoping things will change, tired of empty promises that all will work out well in the end. I’m ready for some non-violent action, and the only…
Read
Random Post

Insects of War

Do you remember being small and singing that bringing home a baby bumble bee would make my mommy proud of me? But when the two tallest roses in our meadow were plucked the bee was squashed, it’s warm, yellow fuzz…
Read
Random Post

May of Another Hard Year: Some Thoughts

Click on the link below to access the PDF for Michael Farrell Smith's visually-formatted lyric memoir essay with erasures, May of another Hard Year: Some Thoughts. May of another Hard Year: Some Thoughts     Michael Farrell Smith (formerly Mike Smith, and…
Read