Portside

3 Poems: Targets, In Response, Reasons for Release

If only it hadn’t been 1946 on a remote back road
in a rural town in North Carolina, but it was;
or if your brother hadn’t stayed late after school for extra help
with his homework, but he did;
or if those three white boys speeding through the back streets of town
hadn’t spotted him walking towards them,
or if one of the boys hadn’t had bottle of
Coca-Cola and decided on a game of target practice,
or if only the driver didn’t lean out of his window and whip the glass bottle
at your brother’s head, yelling, “Catch Nigger!”,
or if the bottle hadn’t ricocheted off your brother’s jaw leaving
a scar he would carry for the rest of his life, but it did;
or if only the pain he felt from his bleeding chin had outweighed his anger,
or if he hadn’t gripped the bottle and in a moment of rage thrown it back
towards the speeding truck narrowly missing its bumper,
or if the three boys hadn’t been watching in the rearview mirror and
spun around in hot perusal of the boy, but they did;
or if only they stopped chasing him when he cut into the woods,
or if they didn’t jump out of their truck and run down behind him,
or if your brother hadn’t tripped over an elevated root,
scraping his knee and slowing him down, and he did;
or if you hadn’t been on the front porch waiting for him to get home,
or if your brother’s tears hadn’t mixed with the blood of his chin,
running down the sleek neck you eyed with worry,
or if you hadn’t seen those three boys closing in on him,
or if your father didn’t leave his rifle beside the sofa in the living room,
or if only those boys fled when they saw you with that double barrel,
or if only they stopped approaching when you told them to,
or if only they listened when you warned them,
or if only they had taken you seriously,
but they didn’t.

In response to being questioned by authorities the morning she was arrested for firing two shots into the ground with a double-barreled rifle near the feet of three boys that had chased her brother in their 1939 Chevrolet pickup before jumping out of their vehicle and pursuing him on foot through the wooded shortcut he ducked and dodged through to get home and evade his pursuers in all their unyielding fury for a reason he was sure stemmed much deeper than the launch and miss of an empty Coca-Cola bottle that they had thrown at him only moments prior

                                                                                                             I was protecting my brother

Reasons for Release

Heard her daddy and sheriff served together
That her daddy saved sheriff’s life
                                                                                                             Cuz she a young girl and ain’t no one
                                                                                                             want no marshal sniffin’ round here

And when them boys’ uncle took them to the
station they said she shot at them
                                                                                                             Cuz when the police pulled them bullets from
                                                                                                             the ground their trajectory was pointing down

                                                          Cuz them boys was on they property
                                                                and had no business being there

Since her grandmamma took care of sheriff’s
wife when she was a baby
                                                                                                              Cuz she a pretty young thang with killa’ legs
                                                                                                                          and one of them police boys want her
And them boys’ parents tore up they hind parts
for stealing they grandpappy’s truck
                                                                                                              Cuz black folks ain’t got no rights
                                                                                                                               but to protect they home

                                                         Cuz the police couldn’t figure out
                                                                           what to charge her with

Since them boys’ mama been buying her
jarred peaches from her mama for ten years
                                                                                                                Cuz her brother had to go to the hospital and
                                                                                                                     get ten stiches in his jaw and four in his leg

And her granddaddy drove her brother over there
and made him apologize for throwin’ that bottle

                                                        Cuz she could have killed em’
                                                                         but didn’t
                                                                                                                 Cuz the white folks in town
                                                                                                                                  respect her family
Since she’s always been
a good girl

                                                        Cuz she was right,
                                                                                          no,
                                                                                                 Cuz she was lucky

A Canadian poet, Morgan Christie’s work has appeared in Aethlon, Blackberry, Hippocampus, Germ Magazine, Moko, and elsewhere.  She will be attending the University of Oxford to attain her Masters in Creative Writing this fall.