October Poem 6: Capitalizing on Tragedy

You look at our TV and say look at

All that violence, and I say, what violence?

That isn’t even what violence looks like.

The dust of bullets pelting the ground and

The splinters of wood flying from the wall.

And people nowhere near frightened enough

To be under fire. There is no cry. No scream.

And I turn on the news to hear rhythmic

Tapping and a top down view of a crowd

Dancing not yet aware that the tapping

Is not part of the show. Not aware that

They are under fire. And I change the

Channel disturbed that the actual sight

Of violence had not disturbed me at all.




2 thoughts on “October Poem 6: Capitalizing on Tragedy

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