An open letter to Michael T. Slager
In memory of Walter L. Scott
It was the standing there that fucked me up
your body upright, right & erect—how many
ways can you let someone die? Beneath you,
your very stand/stance your whole vertical shit
stiff & still, shifted eyes—but body cocked up
up turned—closer to sky, to wings & flit fuck
you man & the way your spine stood still, firm
all those vertebrae lined up, a house beneath
your skin where you're at home, confident.