Roadkill

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road.

 

She dresses to impress him,

Hoping that her clothes are nice and pressed

So that this time he will not press her

Leaving an impression on her skin

While she is still trying to disguise the last print.

An imprint

For each time she did something wrong

And she is still trying to know what that something

Was that had made her ears ring

As she cried to sleep

Trying to remember what made him think she was ever beautiful

When all she sees are the ugly imprints

Found on her skin.

 

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road.

Dismantled and deprived

Of any chance of flight.

 

He came out to his family

Hoping that this would be

The day that he could finally be free

To be who he was without paying a fee,

Forgetting that nothing in this life comes free.

He hoped that his parents would accept him,

Only to realize that his family’s tolerance applied to everyone except him.

 

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road.

Discarded and denounced

Because he was not an image that people wanted to see.

 

She understood the concept of consent

Which is why the constant

“No,” remains in her head

As he undraped her and raped her.

Yet she is told that she “was asking for it.”

How is it possible to ask for what you do not want?

Her outfit was ‘too provocative,’ allowing him to be proactive.

Now she is a slut

Told that she should have kept her legs shut.

No need for legal enforcement, because her outfit was endorsement for force meant upon her.

 

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road.

Dishonored and defamed

As everyone walked by.

 

He was shot for walking with his hands

In his pocket. Believed to be a dangerous threat

Because he was black.

The closest he ever came to a gun was

When the bullet pierced through him.

And the closest he ever came to corrupt was

When death ruptured him.

 

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road.

Disarmed and denied

Any chance of life.

 

I saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road today:

Dismantled and deprived,

Discarded and denounced,

Dishonored and defamed,

Disarmed and denied.

I paused at this image,

At the sight of the dead pigeon

Smashed onto the pavement by a car,

The perpetrator gone

While the image remained.

 

How many more dead pigeons do we need to see

Before we can stand and say that it is not okay?

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s