In my dream
The policeman points his gun
pulls the trigger
and
Bang!
The sky fills with blossoms
Butterflies
Balloons
Batik banners
Black Skin
Brown Skin
are not bullseyes
No bullet ever cuts down
The husband
The father
The brother
My brother
No child lies on red, wet, grass
unlearning someone’s name.
No wife braids mourning into her hair
and into her heart.
No sun rises on a funeral march.
No mother writes the name of her child
with the dirt she will throw on his grave.
The light shines instead
On the house, on the street, on the city, on the nation.
We make whole.
One body truly indivisible
And I stop dreaming.
And start planning
And plotting
And breathing with you.
