https://soundcloud.com/worldlittoday/still-life-with-toy-gun
Still Life with Toy Gun for Tamir Rice and John Crawford III after the after-party empties both of its fists the seven of us gather like a murder of crows to loose bread around the last table the dining hall has left. It’s late, and vegetarian pizza is the best thing the joint has going but we stay, mostly to partake in what we would never call gossip in front of our uncles but most certainly is: who left with how many numbers, top ten worst life choices made that weekend, how Lauryn’s cobalt dress lassoed every human breath in the room. Night unspools. Our attention plants its feet in late Clinton-era Everywhere and we sing of what we yearned for back then, back home, what mocked our small, stupefied hands like a white stove or the promise of beauty. Consensus lands on Super Soakers. B.B. guns. All manner of false weaponry we were barred from as boys because of a mother’s fear, her suspicion that the rules of a given game might shift and gunfire would be our only warning, the policeman’s voice an aftershock, his first mouth having already made its claim. Even now, no one among us calls this a kind of theft, which is to say, the term never launches like a hex from our tongues, but even if it did, somehow, rise and alight the air, if everything we missed during the years we grew tired trying not to die found its own body right then, right there in the dead center of campus, what difference could it make now that we have already mastered the rule book, the protocol we learned before we learned to slow dance, or smooth talk, or scream the lyrics of a favorite song in a group of two or more and not feel ashamed of all the noise a black body can make while it is still living Joshua Bennett, author of the poem “Still Life with Toy Gun," writes 13 stanzas on his and his friends discussion on police shootings of black males. Bennett dedicates the poem “for Tamir Rice and John Crawford III," two men (12 and 22) who were shot by police officers while holding toy guns (B.B. guns in both cases). Bennett discusses his thoughts and reflects on the changes in society that have led to where we are today. For Bennett, the subject matter of this poem and the ideas expressed are very significant to his life and add to the emotion he is describing. As a black man himself, Bennett is able to draw from his personal experience with the matter by speaking from his own childhood, (“All manner of false weaponry we were barred from as boys”). He is able to relate his own life to Rice and Crawford III and connect to how the fear of a mother of a black boy is now universal within that community. The style this poem was written in is important to how the poem was intended to be read. Joshua Bennett has done most of his work in slam-poem format where the performance of the poem often times contributes just as much to the poem as the words do. I’ve included a link at the bottom to a recording from Bennett. The stanzas end mid sentence because in this format, Bennett can continue to speak and pause as he wishes. For a reader however, the effect is a interesting, fast-paced reading that builds the emotion right up to the end of the poem. This poem reads as a flash of thoughts running through Bennett’s mind, uninhibited and uncensored. Bennett’s word choice in this poem create some lines that stand out as harsh and violent; “gunfire would be our only warning,” “the policeman’s voice an aftershock,” “we grew tired trying not to die,” and “right there in the dead center of campus”. The impact of these lines and Bennett’s use of words that relate to death and chaos add to his message and point of view as a man who has recognized this as his new reality. I particularly like how he states “the dead center of campus” to bring the poem back to present day, to where he is still at college with his friends talking about these issues, while placing himself “dead center” as if he sees who he is as a target.
5 Comments
|
the authorcami (17) archives
January 2017
categories |