You’re looking past her
avoiding her eyes,
the eyes of the woman
in the front line of the protest
the one who reminds you of your mother
or your mother in law
or your grandmother
or all of them together.
You don’t need to look at her,
don’t need to meet the challenge
of her eyes,
you have the power
you have the choice
to look past her.
You can do anything
so long as you don’t face her
so long as you don’t cower
you have the power.
You know it
when you collect your paycheck
when you slither on your belly
in the wet fetid gutter
to collect your police paycheck
and take it home
to your wife
or mother
or grandmother
ready to meet her eyes proudly
if only you could open the door
if only she would open the door
if only she would let you in
if only your key would still fit her lock
if only she would still look in your eyes.
But she has the power to look past you.
She knows it.
She knew it then.
You know it now.
First published in Free Lit, Law issue, Spring 2019.
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places, and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Gyroscope Review and So It Goes. Find Lynn at:and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/
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