by Gwendolyn Morgan
aquatic flightless birds
adopted flippers for swimming in icy water
in Chile, Argentina, South Africa
We are a black and white same gendered multiracial family
intersectionality of lens lock and intersect
race ethnicity gender orientation
privilege power white and black witness feathers
Our neighbor a white man swerved at us intentionally
a sandy brown vehicle like the burnt umber sand at the edge of Ushuaia
where you can take a boat to see three species of penguins
his Toyota 4Runner once and another black SUV again
revved at us make the black woman jump again
and her partner jump to our neighbor’s green and brown grass
the couple moved here from another state
moved here a few years ago now still shocked by the behavior
of well-educated mostly white privileged neighbors who in this time of COVID
pack guns, rev engines, use anti-kindness vernacular
we watch brothers, fathers, sisters, mothers die in the pandemic
while our neighbors watch microaggression after macroaggression
directed at my beloved like guns, tear gas and a palette of vehicles
rainbow of colors, the neighborhood children walk here too
I could write for days
about what it means to live here in black and white
how we have plush penguins and carved wooden penguins
on our fireplace hearth
along with sage, sweetgrass, feathers,
ashes, vigil candles, gifts from our elders.
Gwendolyn Morgan is a Pacific Northwest poet and artist who serves in interfaith Spiritual Care in a medical center in the midst of COVID19. The Clark County Poet Laureate 2018-2020 in Washington State, her third book of poetry, Before the Sun Rises is a Nautilus Silver Winner in Poetry. Gwendolyn and her spouse Judy A. Rose focused on poetry and music during a Winter 2020 Centrum Artist Residency. As a multiracial family in a multispecies watershed, they are committed to equity work and inclusion for all.
