Editor’s note: This poem is part of our #SpreadTheWord poem of the week series, featuring work by Chicago artists based on Injustice Watch reporting. This poem was inspired by Amara Enyia’s commentary, Chicago must defund—not just reform—the police. For more poetry in this series, click here.
is the eradication of the supreme not what we need?
Shot from their barrels to pierce the brown skins of our backs
as our wallets bleed green waste to keep their houses warm and
their babies fed.
Our babies dead.
AcE Gold
They win from our decayed flesh all the same.
For capital
And greed.
For supremacy
And terror.
The fear is painted across the cracked pavement underneath our feet. How many times have we walked over dried blood without knowing?
*
I take the scenic route from the Garfield Green Line on my way home then I pass the brownish green grass sitting at the corner of Garfield and Indiana and And i remember the life lost here |Dequrion Goodwin| and i remember |Shaniyah Brown| gone just around the corner then i remember the funeral shooting
In Gresham as patrol cars sat around the corner.
*
Too busy drinking stale coffee behind Ford’s wheel and listening to delayed scanners Provided by the money barely dripping from our pockets.
15 bodies hit the ground.
*
They say our violence unstoppable… dreadful then
In the same breath,
We need more of J. Edgar Hoover’s grandsons patrolling our streets To stop us, to beat us, to kill us, but
Not to serve us.
It’s always us “grappling with rising violence” and never—
*
The blood of the lamb is the juice of the fruit
And we drink from both their flesh all the same.
For sustenance
And deliverance
For freedom
And revolution.
The resistance exists for what is taken and not given
And we burn down the pillars linking our chains evermore.
So that chains become vines tattooed into our Black skin once
The abolition settles in our bellies and our minds no longer
Breed hopelessness and despair from our wombs,
But we give birth to transformation, healing, and unequivocal (uninterrupted) power: tell us what keeps us safe so we can correct you.
AcE Gold writes poems about home, mental (in)stability, love, and Blackness. She hails from southern Black single mothership and village care from the East end of Ruston, Louisiana to PG County, Maryland and then down to southern Maryland. With South Side Chicago being her home now, she activates both performance and social spaces as a curator and movement artist as Aaliyah Christina. She has contributed to Young Chicago Authors’ 2019 Queeriosity zine, Performance Response Journal (as Aaliyah Christina), and the Dance Center of Columbia College Writers’ Cohort Blog (as Aaliyah Christina).
Republish this article for free under a Creative Commons license.
Thank you for your interest in republishing our work
We welcome and encourage other news organizations to republish our reporting on the Cook County court system. Unless otherwise noted, all our work is available for republishing under the following conditions:
Contact editor@injusticewatch.org to let us know that you are republishing our work.
Do not change the story or the headline, except for house style or to reflect changes in time or location (e.g., “yesterday” can be changed to “last week”, or “Springfield, Illinois, can be changed to “Springfield” or “here”).
Stories must include the byline of the reporter(s), including any publishing partners. We prefer the format: “By Reporter Name, Injustice Watch.”
Include this language and links at the top of the story: “This story was produced by Injustice Watch, a nonprofit newsroom in Chicago that investigates issues of equity and justice in the Cook County court system. Sign up here to get their weekly newsletter.”
Copy the HTML using this “republication tool,” including the parse.ly tracking information.
You cannot republish our photographs or illustrations without specific permission. Email editor@injusticewatch.org to request permission.
If you use canonical metadata, use the Injustice Watch URL as the canonical link.
You may include our content on webpages with ads, but you cannot sell ads specifically against our content. If you’re a nonprofit, you can’t state or imply that donations to your organization support Injustice Watch’s work.
You can’t republish our work wholesale or automatically. You must select stories to publish individually.
You can’t sell our material separately or syndicate it. This includes publishing or syndicating our work on platforms or apps, such as Apple News, Google News, etc.
If we send you a request to remove our content from your website, you must agree to do so immediately.
Please note, we will not provide indemnification if you are located or publishing outside the United States, but you may contact us to obtain a license and indemnification on a case-by-case basis.
tell us what reform does…
Share this:
Editor’s note: This poem is part of our #SpreadTheWord poem of the week series, featuring work by Chicago artists based on Injustice Watch reporting. This poem was inspired by Amara Enyia’s commentary, Chicago must defund—not just reform—the police. For more poetry in this series, click here.
is the eradication of the supreme not what we need?
Shot from their barrels to pierce the brown skins of our backs
as our wallets bleed green waste to keep their houses warm and
their babies fed.
Our babies dead.
They win from our decayed flesh all the same.
For capital
And greed.
For supremacy
And terror.
The fear is painted across the cracked pavement underneath our feet. How many times have we walked over dried blood without knowing?
*
I take the scenic route from the Garfield Green Line on my way home then I pass the brownish green grass sitting at the corner of Garfield and Indiana and And i remember the life lost here |Dequrion Goodwin| and i remember |Shaniyah Brown| gone just around the corner then i remember the funeral shooting
In Gresham as patrol cars sat around the corner.
*
Too busy drinking stale coffee behind Ford’s wheel and listening to delayed scanners Provided by the money barely dripping from our pockets.
15 bodies hit the ground.
*
They say our violence unstoppable… dreadful then
In the same breath,
We need more of J. Edgar Hoover’s grandsons patrolling our streets To stop us, to beat us, to kill us, but
Not to serve us.
It’s always us “grappling with rising violence” and never—
*
The blood of the lamb is the juice of the fruit
And we drink from both their flesh all the same.
For sustenance
And deliverance
For freedom
And revolution.
The resistance exists for what is taken and not given
And we burn down the pillars linking our chains evermore.
So that chains become vines tattooed into our Black skin once
The abolition settles in our bellies and our minds no longer
Breed hopelessness and despair from our wombs,
But we give birth to transformation, healing, and unequivocal (uninterrupted) power: tell us what keeps us safe so we can correct you.
AcE Gold writes poems about home, mental (in)stability, love, and Blackness. She hails from southern Black single mothership and village care from the East end of Ruston, Louisiana to PG County, Maryland and then down to southern Maryland. With South Side Chicago being her home now, she activates both performance and social spaces as a curator and movement artist as Aaliyah Christina. She has contributed to Young Chicago Authors’ 2019 Queeriosity zine, Performance Response Journal (as Aaliyah Christina), and the Dance Center of Columbia College Writers’ Cohort Blog (as Aaliyah Christina).