Where Someone Grabs Their Purse
i walk into the store
to buy some snacks, a simple thing
down the aisle my careless eye
a mark of my youth, my faltering attention
but everything becomes still
when the white man appears
he is tall, maybe angry. i am never sure
he walks past me in a second, feeling like years
will he take his vengeance with a blade
will he take his vengeance with a gun
will the chip bag be the last texture
my fingers grace
now i brace myself for the worst,,
i hold my breath
i say a prayer
in my mind, i bind myself:
to the “n-word”
to a burning cross
to the white angry men with hoods and flags
to men who burnt down my churches
to the headlines where my people hang
to the footage of my people crying out in fear
to my people’s youth being exposed to hatred
for something they cannot control.
he passes behind me, and disappears into the next aisle
i breathe again.