Martin Luther King Day, 2016
All those baggies
filled with sand
and open invitations
to the brotherhood
of Loyal White Knights–
they’ve been erased.
Your labor’s undone. Confiscated.
Lily-livered, anonymous,
hooded ones, sneaking around
at the snail’s hour—at least
snails set down filigree trails.
You cruise country roads
laying the bricks of hate.
One per house, as far
as I walked with the dog.
Discarding your handiwork
would have been too easy,
so I repurposed the leaflets
into origami cranes.
I brought them to the Bogue Falaya
and set them sailing
past the cypress trees,
harmless and pure as doves.