Sounds of a Sheltered City

by primo lagaso goldberg

END 20th

You know, 

Not much has changed.

I steep in a silent pocket of nature

In the sunshine syrup,

In the sweet ginger breeze,

In the silence of living. 

I still walk my dog

And pause on the stairs,

And smile wearily,

And continue on like we both don’t know. 

I am a place no one believes exists

Until they see me,

Until someone gives their address,

Until someone is on their way somewhere else.

You know,

Not much has changed. 

On All Four Sides

Crack! Clack!

The sounds that once only graced the square on

Weekday holidays and

Late Sunday nights and

Early Monday mornings are

Now the only thing no one hears

Grrrick! Crush!

Cursed mumbles indicate that not everyone cares

But four or eight is nothing compared to

Four or eight hundred

People now scared to open the door or

Bold enough to drink

Kshhhh! Chruk!

No lights, no sounds, no locals or foreigners

Nothing but a unity

Of silence

On all

Four sides

Black Lives Matter!

We never thought we’d be here,

Or maybe we knew we would; 

Robbed of justice drenched in fear,

Of what has happened and what could.

We pretend and prioritize,

And we take to the street;

Death forces us to organize,

So that justice and peace may meet.

A sickness,

A sickness,

A sickness,

But which one is the most deadly?