by poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner
Breathe
Relax
Aim
Sight
Squeeze
Off bulls eyes on ‘suspects’ backs
’10 rings’ in ‘suspects’ chests
Rummage through trusty ‘war bags’ for
Guns with filed-off serial #s in baggies,
Get good prints from warm hands as
They bleed out, or just let the gun drop
From the baggy, beside the bleeding out
‘Suspects,’ the shootees’ bodies—did your
Partner bark out cover-up commands?
“Drop the gun!” “Put down your weapon!”
“Don’t do it, Johnny!” “Stop resisting!”
It’s gonna be a “good shoot,” “in policy”
Now, gift-wrap the square, the circle, in
Yellow ribbon: POLICE LINE DO NOT
CROSS; call for backup to secure the scene,
While you and your partner, huddle, and get
David Mametish, Michael Mannish, Octavia
Butlerish about what just went down and
The ‘suspects’ bleed out—dead men don’t
Talk, finger officers, file complaints or suits…
Not bad, third in three years, the crew
Will toast you in the bar tonight as you
Ponder paid vacation and desk duty…
“I feared for my safety, my partner’s safety”
“Suspicious activity” “Suspects were facing
The wall with their backs to my partner and
I, one hand on the wall and one hand at their…
Waistbands” “They disobeyed my command to
Drop their weapons and turned slowly with dicks
In their hands—which, in the dim light, that split
Second, appeared to be small caliber handguns…”
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at Raymond (at) upsurgejazz.com
Raymond Nat Turner © 2014 All Rights Reserved
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