Florida says
but only to wanna-be cops
who shoot black teenagers with a hoodie
skittles, tea, and a phone call to his girl friend
but not you Marissa, not you.
the law doesn't mean you
even if he choked and beat
and slapped you many, many times
before; any if he said he was going
to kill you; not you
not you
The law doesn't mean you
to shoot your gun to warn him away
the gun you never once pointed at him
the gun you ran to get when you couldn't
find the keys to the car; stand your ground
your knees shaking, your voice quivering
I will kill you, he said
you only said, leave me alone
don't hurt me anymore
and shot a warning shot
to say, "I mean it this time"
Did you get one year for every punch
every kick every slap every rape
Twenty years for begging him not to hurt you
for shooting in the air
I know... children were present, but how many
times were they present when he beat
you? did they whimper in corners
cover their eyes and ears, wait for
him to stop, for the blood not to trickle
from your lip, for you to makeover
the black-and-blue of his punches
Twenty years... a warning shot
to women: there's no defending yourself
in this country
Did you think it might be different if you
were white, if you were rich, male
anything but scared and black and woman
anything but that
but you are not the first
or the last woman we will have
to give an account for, we will have to explain
the equations that make his scared
more punishable than yours
What do you imagine
we will tell your children about why
we locked you up, why we allowed it
about how you deserved it because
you WARNED him... You. Warned. Him.
stand your ground, Marissa.
but you had no ground that belonged
to you. not even the saving of
your life.
© Valerie Bridgeman
May 17, 2013
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