Where I’m White From
I used to live in a city
where weekly stories would report
the latest
barroom stabbing,
and the news vans would circle
with every shooting.
My mom would call me
frantically, are you okay,
that was right by your house?!
Yeah, mom, I’m white,
I mean, I’m fine, it’s fine,
this is normal around here.
And I wasn’t afraid, even though
I heard my black friends talk about maybe
walking with their hands up from now on.
Where I’m from,
in the woods of Connecticut,
I hear gunshots every day.
It’s deer season, and sometimes
when I hear the pop pop POW
of a rifle in the woods, I startle and then
Remember I’m white,
living in a house in the woods
where we can afford to not be scared.
This is the house my grandparents built
this is the safest place in my world,
surrounded by shots fired, shots fired, shots fired.
