“All lives matter,” you sniffed,
and I marvel at how glibly
a cry for help
is transformed into a grammar lesson.
We are dying, they said to you,
and within your bleached brain
you donned a miniaturizing monocle.
You placed a mirror over your ears, like a hearing aid.
If a man is drowning
will apostrophes keep him afloat?
If a house is burning
will conjugating “veni, vidi, vici” dowse the flames?
America, the stones in your foundation are on fire.
Put down the textbook. Pick up a bucket.
The colorless gas
of cowardice and silence
is poisoning us all.
K Roberts is a professional non-fiction writer.
