Tribute to Sarah Everard

After N.

I am a free man.

The streets walk through and in me.

I do not walk the solaces afraid of women.

My fear is not walking them being left to melancholies.

My walks give me calm when I am at freeze and falter.

I do not walk studying shadows behind me.

I do not translate the shape of their cast.

I do not thread keys through my fists.

I am a peaceful man who can walk in darkness alone.

Yesterday I sat with eyes closed under moonlight,

I heard footsteps approach and felt eyes on me.

They must have thought me odd, maybe not.

I think of Sarah Everard

and I am free no more to speak of.

I think of a vole in the edges of darkness.

I think of the predators forcing these curfews.

Had I have heard Sarah Everard’s screams

the peace in me would be replaced by primality,

a vine of keys would shoot through my fists like frost.

I would neither be male or human but a rage in rapture.

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