Moving Game

By Dee Allen

On a hunting trip,
Father and son
Brought their rifles—
And a Magnum

Rolled in a white pick-up truck
Through a quiet, tree-lined domain
Driven closer on the heels
Of moving game

Cornered on the roadside—
Hunters stepped forward to attack.
Hot lead poured into their prey.
His skin was Black.

Running athlete—“Suspected burglar”
The line they fed the cops later.
What would you expect
From Georgia backwoods haters?

The New South
Façade disrupted with a passion,
The Old South
Returned in homicidal fashion.

Now the hunters are captured and caged
And rightfully accused.
Father and son find themselves fair game
For the rage that rage produced.

[ For Ahmaud Arbery—1996 – 2020. ]

African-Italian performance poet based in Oakland, California. Active on the creative writing & Spoken Word tips since the early 1990s. Author of 5 books [ Boneyard, Unwritten Law, Stormwater and Skeletal Black, all from POOR Press, and his newest from Conviction 2 Change Publishing, Elohi Unitsi ] and 26 anthology appearances [ including Your Golden Sun Still Shines, Rise, Extreme, The Land Lives Forever, Civil Liberties United and the newest from Local Gems Press, Trees In A Garden Of Ashes ] under his figurative belt so far.