LEKECIA DORSEY Poetry
Photo By Lijah Lewis
Inglewood, CA
Living in a Fishbowl, Under a Flashlight What is ghetto?
What is too ghetto? Who gets to decide? Helicopters flit from block to block, tree to tree, Crime scene to backyard, like hummingbirds frantically consuming nectar disturbing peaceful suburbs Of colorful houses and brown people. I didn’t know my sleep wasn’t peaceful Until I was 16. We moved to the suburbs And, at night, I heard coyotes call the moon In the morning, sparrows chirped, instead of the “Ghetto Bird” slicing the air to shreds. Why did we call it that? Was it named after the people or the area? Tell me, why should I be made to feel shame for being born in a place that is beautiful even under surveillance?
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