You stepped in the doorway.
Come, you said, to comfort me.
A long way to come without
having gone anywhere new,
I thought, the nurse watched
over me to help me contain
my anger, but I could not.
The background: strangers
arrived to check out a victim.
Such a long way to come
without moving an inch.
My fingers searched
for a red flag to hold up
when I spit out
ban assault rifles,
don’t let white men
use them as banners
for hate.
The hate you wave
at every turn.
Tricia Knoll asks how she might feel if she were in a hospital bed after a shooting and the President arrived.