You march to condemn barriers, murder,
ancient contracts that cuff your liberty.
I run fencing around my garden, not
sharing peppers with squirrels, damn rabbits. Later
I add cheese to the burgers, smoke rising
off the grill. You join hands with strangers, block
cars, then choke down more tear gas, dodge bullets
while I mix up my second gin gimlet,
freshly squeezed lime juice. “Enough is enough.”
My daughter says grace, asks God to protect
all the frontline workers and protesters.
She prays please, please help with injustices.
And I go to my soul’s dark room, spotlight
on my complacent inactivity.
Andrea Lee Dunn is from Indianapolis by way of the Texas-Mexico border and North Carolina. She studied creative writing at Texas Tech University and now enjoys trying to balance a writing life with raising three children. In addition to poems previously published by Flying Island, examples of her work can be found in New Mexico Review, Southwestern American Literature, Cagibi Journal, Entropy Magazine, and the Same.