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Racial and Gender Justice

Slide Show (a poem)

Slide Show (January 2009) by Carrie Leilam Love
It can be read in rows left-to-right or in columns top-to-bottom.


this is Oscar Grant bending.
being bent.
this is me waiting at the
window for her to come home.
heart elephant. weighing down
one side, teaching the other
what empty is.
this the biggest boss that we have seen this far, with the baddest bitch
in the game dancing to an old song, at last love, at last love, at last at last thank god almighty we are president at least.
this is Oscar Grant, bent
and headed to the ground.
hit and head to the ground.
this is me waiting at her heart for the window to open. this is Palestine. these are the dead weighing down one side, holding
up the lighter dead. this is the bad
math of mass murder, equation
here we go laughin, cause on a
MTV cribs re-run, only thing in Missy Elliot's bedroom sides a Ferrari bed is a life-size cut-out of Janet Jackson half-naked.
this Annette Garcia, this the Sheriff who shot her in the back. These are her children,
and this is just
how they looked, shocked not surprised, this just how they looked: tough and into distance.
these are my dead: bowler hat and big belly, bowed legs and bright smile, big hands & mad to the marrow. this my grandmama mean as
vinegar and picked through,
preserved against men in the
bone-yard calling: dear wife, dear mother, dear mother, dear grandmother, come join us in the loam.
here we are underground, swinging
on bulb roots, waiting for
the lilies to tell us it's July.
this is Oscar Grant's heart,
opened and filling his empty. this is his back, softer, in this case, than his belly.
this is her back. she welts easily when I scratch. this is a speckled brown egg, narrow end down, yok weighing into the point. This is my back.   this is me, learning empty is full of breath, shoutin: Please don’t shoot!  
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Forty One Shots and Nineteen Hits

"Forty One Shots and Nineteen Hits" by Raul Estremera
For Oscar Grant & Richard Lua

That terrible nine millimeter sound-
with hollow point bullets strewn all around.
And Amadou Dialo WAS DEAD before he hit the ground.
A life- snuffed out in the wink of an eye.
Then the killers went free, while a mother cried.

Forty one shots and nineteen hits!

Oscar Grant the third
Whose young voice will never be heard?
Because of a coward, and racist RAT.
Who put a bullet INTO HIS BACK
Then took his hate, along on his flight.

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