Graham v. Connor (1989)
Guns become soundless
when their ringing
is omnipresent,
when their bullets
are metronomic,
when their tragedy
tastes prosthetic,
grieved in phrases
between sips
of morning coffee,
lukewarm on our tongue.
Their sounds
were shrill with virus
long before our illness
forced us to listen.
We think we know
quarantine
when bodies
have been
in lockdown
for so long,
their chokehold is
an army knot
strung into the polyester
of our legacy,
their gasps
gusts of air
behind claps
of a waving flag.