After Viewing “Young boys harassing the first African American family to move into the all-white neighborhood”

Glenda Funk

Last night I dreamed I saw a
young Don harassing the first
African American family
moving into his all-white
neighborhood. He stretched
tiny fists in raised rage,
spittle foaming from his mouth—
a circle wrapped around his hate—
bellowing a bubbling brew,
feeding a klan of kreepy kids,
misfits like him from a
Flannery O’Connor short story
who believe in jesus and justice,
just not the god of love. His
barbed-wire words stretch
like a cabled line reaching across
history into infinity,
still measuring others
not by the content of their
character but by the color of
their skin
, their shit-hole homes.
Now a squinting shadow
stands spewing and shoveling
the same slop, while
around the resolute desk
the boys swarm.
He ain’t learned nothing.
And so it goes.
Who knew in this
child a good man
would be so
hard to find?

Note from Glenda about the poem: *Additional inspiration from Eve Ewing’s “I saw Emmitt Till this week at the grocery store,” and Lorraine Hansbury’s “A Raisin in the Sun.”


Icon for the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License

Bridge the Distance: An Oral History of COVID-19 in Poems Copyright © 2021 by Glenda Funk is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

Share This Book