After Greensboro
At the dance
we garnered glares
from white boys, black girls
as the mirrored ball distorted
everyone’s color.
When we kissed,
the fullness of your mouth
was a surprise to mine
(the exoticism of race).
Since we sensed
our connection was taboo,
we would retreat to the movies
(ticket taker’s tariff of a stare)
and sink
into the receiving arms
of the slightly rocking chairs.
The dark claimed us for a couple hours
before we would emerge vulnerably into the daze-bright day.
When I think of you now
I wonder at how we were unaware
of the Greensboro massacre.
How we thought
white sheets suggested only love.
by Kimberly L. Becker
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Categories: Journaling the Apocalypse
This is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
yes.
Perfect! Utterly perfect.
The subject matter of our times: the taboo!!!
Good to read your poem.
Twenty years or so ago we lived near Greensboro. To the casual eye, it looked all calm. With this marvelous poem I’m taken both back – to the civil rights days – and forward – in fear and hope for Barak Obama – and our country.