The rioters all knew him—
it had to be an inside job—
‘cause to a man they spoke
to him by name as they
breached the building.
Read their lips…
And that staged chase?
Why, if it had been real he
would have done what any
Officer fearing for his life would
have done—Any officer who feared
for his life the year before would
have done—Any officer who might
fear for his life in the next four
years would have done… Trust me.
And they pulled their punches—
sure he suffered a shiner,
busted lip; chipped tooth—
but he took those for the team…
Are you going to tell me that he
didn’t even have his name tag on
and every marauder greeted him:
“Officer N.Word—“ “N.” for short?”
© 2021. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
BAR’s poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner is an accomplished performing artist. You can find much more of his work at https://www.youtube.com/user/zigilow
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