November 2016
I am an attorney in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and often write or think about writing poems while I'm sitting in court. My chapbook, The Lawyer Who Died in the Courthouse Bathroom, was published by Parallel Press (University of Wisconsin Libraries) in 2013, and my book, The Biology of Consciousness was published by Pebblebrook Press in April, 2016. I am a member of the Hartford Avenue Poets in Milwaukee.
Blue
I leave my white town,
to drive to the black crime
scene in the black neighborhood
where my black client maybe
shot the black girl on the porch
of the house where the blood
stain has turned black.
I take notes in my white
notebook amid the white
noise of the radios and insects
and passing cars and then on
to my office in the white
Third Ward with the white
bars and white restaurants
where I talk to my white
friends about the black men
who played basketball
in front of the white
crowd last night on tv.
Later, I go to the jail and
pass by the white jailers
to talk to my black client
about the charge of the black
on black crime brought by
the white DA before we go
in front of the white judge
and eventually the white
jurors who live in their white
enclaves leading their white
lives and afterwards I’ll
talk to his black family
about the time he will serve
in the black prison up north
with the white prison guards
and then I’ll drive home
past the white park to my house
in the white part of town
and relax and listen to the black
saxophonist who will turn
me blue for awhile before
I go to bed to dream my
colorless dreams.
I leave my white town,
to drive to the black crime
scene in the black neighborhood
where my black client maybe
shot the black girl on the porch
of the house where the blood
stain has turned black.
I take notes in my white
notebook amid the white
noise of the radios and insects
and passing cars and then on
to my office in the white
Third Ward with the white
bars and white restaurants
where I talk to my white
friends about the black men
who played basketball
in front of the white
crowd last night on tv.
Later, I go to the jail and
pass by the white jailers
to talk to my black client
about the charge of the black
on black crime brought by
the white DA before we go
in front of the white judge
and eventually the white
jurors who live in their white
enclaves leading their white
lives and afterwards I’ll
talk to his black family
about the time he will serve
in the black prison up north
with the white prison guards
and then I’ll drive home
past the white park to my house
in the white part of town
and relax and listen to the black
saxophonist who will turn
me blue for awhile before
I go to bed to dream my
colorless dreams.
©2016 Thomas J. Erickson
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