SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

Death is Still with
Hands Behind your Back
Gabriel Baez
I say You,
Your badge be not bright–
billy club caked in blood
is prelude to lives You steal
The precinct’s history is grim.
A 13th ideal, once bright,
profaned, soaked red and blotted,
Your profession is steel.
When I say You,
say Your name.
Let it drip out your mouth
and stain the page.
Steal away to freedom,
but these agents arrest flight.
Slave patrol who tracks blood
detains men–or gives steel
I say You, the accursed, stand
Naked: mortal and flesh.
Names are daggers, like pens
Wait for them to sink in
Else they will smudge like smoke
Coughed out of melted lips.
I say You for the abused and
dead names on a reel–news flash
Rancid yellow caution tape.
With homemade body cams, we are their witness.
I say You, the accused, stand
iron-clad, cowering behind plates
and face shields–dark and awful
Miasma making thunder and smoke-
Cause coughs, stillness is compliance
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