BLACK TRAFFIC, STOP

by Rémy Dambron

The police in Grand Rapids, Mich., released videos on Wednesday showing a white officer fatally shooting Patrick Lyoya (pictured above), a 26-year-old Black man, after a struggle during a traffic stop last week. The officer, who has not been named, was lying on the back of Mr. Lyoya before he appeared to shoot him in the head. In the seconds before the shooting, Mr. Lyoya and the officer wrestled on the ground and seemed to be fighting for control of the officer’s Taser. —The New York Times, April 13, 2022

at first 

an ordinary traffic 

stop, routine

suspect 

you

stay in the car 

get back in the car

do you have a license 

your plates don’t match

do you speak english 

show me your license 

i said your plates don’t match

stay in the car

no stop

you can’t stand there

hey you can’t stand there

stand here no 

wait STOP

grabbing him 

restraining him

throwing him to the ground

with the force of the law

immunity qualified

we’ve seen this before 

too many times before

released body cam footage shows

cop shoots black man

don’t watch it

hurts 

(body camera shuts off)

he shoots 

he shot him

the cop shot the black man

(body camera turns on)

paramedics can’t revive him

because the cop 

he shot him

he shot him dead 

for what 

why

forgive me 

for being repetitive 

but another man with a badge 

shows his bad intentions and 

oh, did I mention?

*he shot him in the head

they called it a struggle

a fight for control over the taser

cop drawing the weapon first

ready to electrocute 

the man he would instead 

just shoot 

but no charges filed

the investigation is ongoing

ongoing, yes

forgive me 

for being repetitive but 

another man with a badge shows his bad intentions 

and oh, did I mention?

*he shot him in the head

his community going on 

carrying his cry for help

to the city steps in protest

to say to their reps 

please 

enough 

stop letting them shoot us

for gods sake 

jesus 

forgive me 

for being repetitive 

but another man 

with a badge 

shows his bad 

intentions and 

oh, did I mention?

*he shot him in the fucking head

Rémy Dambron is a former English teacher now Portland-based poet whose writing focuses on denouncing political corruption and advocating for social/environmental justice. With the help of his chief editor and loving wife, his works have appeared in What Rough Beast, Poets Reading the News, Writers Resist, Words & Whispers, Spillwords, Robot Butt, and The New Verse News. 

FOR DAUNTE WRIGHT

by Rebecca Surmont

Video still from KARE 11 TV·via The New York Times, April 13, 2021.

Again. Again a gun.

When can we end what has begun?

Another day, another gun

goes off by “accident” but a gun

needs a hand ready on its silver gun-

metal finish to pour all its gun

fear into. so much fear we grab a gun

and run or hide, flip upside-down in gun-

smoke circling all those bodies. gun-

ned down bodies, dark as gun

powder and turned to ash. our gun

grey eyes stunned by gun

slinging guardians, a shogun

in blue who will protect me but not you. gun

dogs sniffing the streets and gun-

less dreamers snuffed to sleep at gun-

points undeterred in finding live targets. a gun-

fight never has a winner. i do not understand the gun-

ned down making hard history or gun

stock rising, the real people at the end of the gun-

play left to bow under a white curtain. Gun

again. Gone again. 

 

Rebecca Surmont is a poet from Minneapolis, MN, whose work has been in Silver Birch Press, The Southwest Journal, and the book Seasons by Trolley Car Press. 

THE DOG RUNS ON

by Laura McHale Holland

Alejandro Nieto was killed by police in the neighbourhood where he spent his whole life. Did he die because a few white newcomers saw him as a menacing outsider? —The Guardian, March 21, 2016. Image source: Justice for Alex Nieto.

the dog runs on
and my daughter’s friend
is gone

Alex carries a burrito
up Bernal Hill
a neighborhood jewel
his lifelong home

a husky, off leash, lunges, yips, growls
in pursuit of Alex’s food
the dog’s owner doesn’t notice, doesn’t care
he’s looking at a female jogger’s ass

Alex leaps onto a park bench
the dog lunges, yips, growls
Alex stands, fends off the fangs
the dog’s owner doesn’t notice, doesn’t care
he’s looking at a young jogger’s ass
the dog lunges, yips, growls
Alex pulls out a taser, points it at the beast
the owner notices, reins in his dog,
sees he’s facing a taser, not a gun

he trots off with his dog, calls a friend
says he wishes California were like Florida
he could stand his ground against
a brown-skinned, no good gangbanger
who dares to threaten his lovely dog
he could stand his ground against
a Latino dressed in red 49ers jacket
black 49ers cap, black pants, sunglasses
he could dispense with Alex
who is unnerved by a dog lunging
for a burrito on Bernal Hill
a neighborhood jewel
Alex’s lifelong home

Alex sits down, bites into his burrito
some passersby see a normal guy, a familiar face
others see a menace with gun tucked at his waist
one calls 911, police drive up the hill
Alex finishes his meal, stands up
a security guard with licensed taser tucked away
Alex, ready for work, ambles a familiar route
police move in
Alex ambles a familiar route, police move in
he does not know his new neighbors
ensconced in remodeled homes
believe he’s a threat, police move in
Alex does not know his neighbors, ensconced
see him as a threat, police move in

What happens next?
officers involved say they told Alex to stop
but he crouched, weapon in hand
they feared for their lives
he crouched, weapon in hand

people who loved Alex say
he would never do that
he was a role model, a youth advocate
a community volunteer
he studied criminal justice
he knew better than most
how to respond to police

an eyewitness says Alex did not
crouch, did not pull out his taser
an eyewitness says Alex did not
pull out his taser, did not crouch
an eyewitness says Alex’s hands
were in his pockets

my daughter says Alex, her friend
from Horace Mann middle school,
was a sweetheart, a peacemaker, always
a connector, a sweetheart always
in all ways

bullets blast and soar
through Alex’s lifetime home
knock the young man down
shatter his jaw and teeth
rip through leg bones
blast and shatter his lifetime
bullets pound the young man
already down without motion
bullets mangle his brain
his blood colors the ground
and the bullets stop at last
his blood pools on the ground

Alex, Buddhist, peace activist,
junior college graduate
aspiring probation officer
Alex, campaign volunteer
community event organizer
Alex deeply loved and loving deeply
breathes his last on Bernal Hill, his home
Alex, a neighborhood jewel
loving deeply and deeply loved
breathes his last on Bernal Hill
and the bullets stop at last

When San Francisco’s finest enter the home
where Alex dreamed the dreams of childhood
where he grew from beloved boy to beloved man
they do not tell his parents their son is dead
they interrogate, look for gang affiliations
they do not tell his parents their son is dead
they interrogate, look for drug connections
proof that Alex was unstable, unreliable, violent
San Francisco’s finest fail to mention that Alex is dead
until his parents demand answers
with no warrant, San Francisco’s finest steal Alex’s car
they find no drug connections, no gang affiliations
they smear Alex’s memory, look for drug connections
gang affiliations, look for dirt and find none

police brass, city brass exonerate the officers
the grieving parents seek justice, restitution in a civil trial
the dog’s owner testifies, jokes about the jogger’s ass
Alex’s grieving parents look on
the officers laugh in the hallway
the grieving parents look on
a jury clears the laughing officers
the grieving parents look on
the dog’s owner doesn’t notice, doesn’t care

the dog runs on and on
my daughter’s friend
is gone

Author’s Note: This poem is related to several police shootings being protested in San Francisco. It is specifically about Alex Nieto, who was gunned down in 2014. On May 9, people in the Justice for Alex Nieto group were among the protesters seeking the resignation of police chief Greg Suhr. Last week, after another in a spate of officer-involved killings, Suhr was asked to resign, and he did.

Author, editor and storyteller Laura McHale Holland has published the anthology Sisters Born, Sisters Found: A Diversity of Voices on Sisterhood; The Ice Cream Vendor's Song, a flash fiction collection; and Reversible Skirt, a memoir. You can sign up at her site to receive an excerpt from Resilient Ruin, her new memoir in progress.

THESE DAYS

by Gil Hoy

Robert Bates, a white reserve deputy in Tulsa County, Oklahoma, has been charged with second-degree manslaughter for fatally shooting Eric Harris, who was unarmed and pinned down by multiple police officers, during an April 2 sting operation, Tulsa World reported. Bates, a 73-year-old reserve deputy, yelled that he was going to use his Taser, before he fired a single shot from his actual gun. Immediately after firing, Bates shouted, "I shot him! I'm sorry." Harris then exclaimed, "He shot me. He shot me. Oh my god. I'm losing my breath." Police officers responded, "You shouldn't have fucking ran!" and "Fuck your breath!" Bates isn't an active member of the police force, Tulsa World's Dylan Goforth reported. He's an insurance executive who volunteers during his free time as a reserve deputy, which is made up of about 130 people total. Many of the people in the reserve, including Bates, also donate equipment to the sheriff's office, including guns, stun guns, vehicles, and even the sunglasses cameras that recorded the shooting.  —Vox.com

These Days

  You need not
  necessarily be

a Real police officer

   to be One.

Millionaire
Insurance Company
Executives
Can pay to

Ride around Playing cop
in Tulsa Oklahoma

 and in lots of other Cities,

   with Guns
   and Tasers too!

And if you happen to have

the understandable misfortune
 
    to reach for the wrong weapon,
Due To your lack of training,

And you grab the Gun
(which you thought was
a Taser)

and Shoot and Kill
   another
Unarmed Black man,

Maybe you can beat the rap

So long as you mind your manners
are courteous
and say:

  Oh, I shot him. I'm sorry.

But it likely
will not help your case

if a Real Deputy
on the scene

says to the Bleeding
     Dying Man

You fucking ran. Shut the fuck up.


Gil Hoy is a regular contributor to The New Verse News.  He is a Boston trial lawyer and studied poetry at Boston University, majoring in philosophy. Gil started writing his own poetry and fiction a year ago.  Since then, his poems and fiction have been published in multiple journals, most recently in Third Wednesday, Stepping Stones Magazine, The Potomac and The Zodiac Review.