W.J.
LOFTON

Would You Kill
God Too?

some women will not arrive in the springtime
to lay in the bluegrass of Kentucky
one will die in the arms of her lover inside the hallway
of their home and he will look desperately for mercy to show up
unannounced as the bullets did just minutes before
the hell hot metal shot into the walls’ scalp until it coughed gypsum
in four hundred years you never have knocked
before entering — never entered without leaving a breath undone
or a body taken — bending brief and begging for a better way
to die — we bury our babies as you polish your badges
break batons over our beloveds’ backs
officers cosgrove, mattingly, hankison
how many nights have you hid the stench of homicide?
tucked it in the farthest pockets of your dreams
how do you explain this to your children
did you tell them the blood on your shoes belonged
to a Black girl or is she not worth mentioning
did you make a mirror out of her blood
did you stand in it? God was in the room
when you made a massacre out of someone’s child—how long
does a man daydream about murder before his index finger finds
the small metal body of a gun? did the clouds resemble smoke
on March 13th? what does the sky before a murder look like?
officers, did you see the sun set?
was God standing at the horizon?
did you want to reach out and kill Her too?
would you kill God too?
was heaven too far away or your legs
just too short? some women will not arrive
in the springtime to lay in the bluegrass
of Kentucky
some will survive to swing the steel
of a switchblade to warn your necks
no dying happens tonight
no prisoners will be taken