Broken Windows

They say a lot of things…

they say a rising tide lifts all boats.
They say policing quality of life issues 
(broken windows, sad panhandlers) 
will raise all boats.  
They say the eyes
are the windows of the soul;
if the soul has broken windows 
that’s the fault of the face they’re in
and we should police them
right into the big clean up… 

they say a lot of things…a lot of things…

They say the path to a man’s heart
runs through his stomach.  

They say center mass 
is the best way to aim.  

They say the surest path to the heart
is to aim for it directly
and if the heart shot misses 
then a gut shot kills too,

slowly but certainly,
especially if you can wait hours for it 
to kill…

they say a lot of things, along with so many things
they don’t say…

they say race is a social construct.  
They don’t say they built it to bind and blind and kill.

They say all lives matter.
They don’t say how they define “all.”

They say it’s best to be polite if you have to scream.
They don’t say much, politely or otherwise, when someone does…

they say so many things,
they never shut up,
they don’t say enough
when they’re talking,
they say what we should do,
they don’t say what they will do,
they don’t say they’ll stop
wringing their hands
or sitting on them
and put them to use,
they don’t say they say so much by saying so much,
by saying so little…behind it all 
a white sheet,
brown shirt, gun hand 

they hear it…no, they don’t hear it…
they hear it…no, they don’t…

then they tell us
to forget it 
and get over it
and stop
and nonsense,
it’s all in our heads, in our
bitter cores…they

hear what they want,
drown the rest 
by talking,

all that clatter
like a storm of broken windows, 
every last word
a window shard seeking
its coat of blood.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “Broken Windows

  • Eileen

    A window shard seeking its coat of blood……………………….
    I’ve been watching too much NCIS lately, I can picture this too well.

    Had a torn meniscus repair last week, husband having a lung biopsy this week, our youngest son, father of four, needs a pace-maker. For a few moments, i wonder if God is a politician……then realize how easy my surgery was, good medical treatment available for my husband, medicare keeping us from destitution, thank God we live when tiny pace-makers can make us like new, and the hospitals will let my son make payments on his medical bills. My neighbors now that we have downsized into an apartment are art works covered with weird tattoos and are full of kindness. The huge, loud, kind of scary looking black disabled war veteran next door offers to carry our trash out to the dumpster for us.

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