Last Words

If you asked me what my last words would be

Now that I know what that means

I would say I wouldn’t want my last words

to be robbed from me

by an act of police brutality.

Unfortunately, I have the privilege to do so.

But I’m just a white girl

from a Long Island cop family,

so what do I know?

I know  that if my mother

was faced with what happened to

Kimani Gray, a boy of the same age

as my little brother when he died,

she’d do a lot more than set fire

to the hand that fed her.

And the same mouth

that said “Mike Brown got what he deserved,”

that he was a thug, or this, that and the third

would fall silent.

See, the only good thing about this privilege,

is I’m not afraid to deny it.

No mom, I will not be quiet,

because of what I know.

I don’t have the privilege to ignore it.

So please, mother officer,

put me out of my misery,

and record it:

my last words will be,

“In every last word, is a story.”