Half Mast - The neverending poem of this gun infected America

[Walleye]

1. This is a little poem I wrote about an actual news story I covered for the paper

Murder on LaMotte Street
Across the dark, deep River
The rest of the city has never been.
There’s a young man in a wheelchair
With his 45 caliber friend

The reason he’s stuck in that chair
Is on account of being shot
Just a year ago
At the corner of Murder and LaMotte.

Now I just like before,
The bang bangs, The pop pops.
Now just like before,
LaMotte Street is full of cops.

And an old black wicker wheelchair,
Is lying on its side
In a pool of blood that’s big enough,
You know somebody died.

That poem appeared in my head when I witnessed the aftermath, having covered the murder of the year before as well. This is the first time I’ve really written it down.

Your poem really speaks to me. It’s the palpable frustration. I think the right wing won’t be happy until we are as angry and hate-filled as they are.

Thanks for the poem