Regretful,
sad,
heavy.
A big stone in a pocket,
that I want to throw in a river.
But cannot,
because now its
more than a memory.
It was a black man in
the white sun.
Who was,
spat,
punched,
kicked.
For colour,
history,
reconciliation.
The theft of a picture book,
from a gift shop.
I am bad bone.
Because.
I saw it happen,
then walked away.
It’s a big stone.
I am mean.
