We warn you this video may contain graphic images,
the man is a blood-chalice, the woman is saying sir
and the uniform stands firm as the camera captures
the road, elbows and hands, the zip-zip of cuffs.
The man is a blood-chalice, an alphabet of red, sir
you shot my boyfriend, she says, don’t tell me he’s gone.
The crying baby is somewhere suspended in dread
over a road of hardened elbows, hands, zip-zip of cuffs.
You shot my boyfriend, she says, don’t tell me he’s gone,
the uniform stands firm, the woman is saying sir
on a road of interlocking elbows, the zip-zip of cuffs.
We warn you this video may contain graphic images.
We warn you this video may contain graphic images.
The policemen approach from angles, spider-like,
the camera to the woman’s face, her voice unravelling
as she summons the facts, “You shot four bullets…”
From angles, the policemen approach, spider-like,
saying “sort” and “out,” as if death were not final.
The man is a man no more, a head-tossed savior,
his body like a white bloody blanket over the seat.
Saying “sort” and “out,” as if death were not final,
the uniform stands firm as the camera captures
his body like a white bloody blanket over the seat.
We warn you this video may contain graphic images.
Alejandro Escudé’s first book of poems, My Earthbound Eye, was published in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.