the city is green
summer is come
here it is quiet—right now
it is 4:00 pm
I recall the sounds of gunfire that
woke me in at the witching hour
now, a quiet lays over Minneapolis
like a restive green
veil
an expectation for justice is simmering
a week ago, the demand was a roiling-boil
the city caught fire
soot and ashes linger—still
the chemical scent
the residue of rage
scratching at my throat
