TODAY IS NOT THE DAY FOR POEM MAKING

The one I woke with slipped away,
and the one about Albert Einstein’s views
on race needs research as does the one about

the Scottsboro boys and false charges of rape
or the one about Amy Cooper and her
Central Park lies which seem so familiar

or the one about an invisible woman,
or the one about black women on Mars.
Today is not the day for poem making.

The dishes in the sink howl. My mop and
broom clamor. The laundry’s cross with me.
Mother is calling for her shipping barrel

in the hallway which takes hours to fill and
packages impatiently loiter in the lobby waiting
to be claimed, and I need to turn over the engine

of my car made almost useless. Poems only
whisper a faint cry, so I can’t stop for poems
today, and I can’t promise poems tomorrow.

8:46 AND MARTYRDOM

––in memory of George Floyd

We watched his face
as he pressed his knee
against Floyd’s neck,

his countenance unbothered,
his brow unfurled,
his Ray-Bans

perched on the top
of his head
never slipped,

the pleas from his prey
left him feeling nothing
that we could discern

and the pleas from onlookers
as they begged him to stop
meant nothing

and the utterances
of the other officers
must have been inaudible

and the time that past
seemed incalculable
and then the clock stopped

and a man’s death
lit a fire
around the world.

Ellen June Wright was born in Bedford, England of West Indian parents. She has consulted on guides for three PBS poetry series. She was a finalist in the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and is the founding member of Poets of Color Virtual Poetry Workshop.