By Sarah Bellum Mental
PROMPT—Privilege ...
The kids ask me
why is it,
we always die first
in the movies?
They clamber at me
my boyfriend’s daughter
his nephew
and I am aware
of the privilege
of my skin
white survival
I get to stay
until the end
of the movie.
The end of this reel.
The end of this street.
My stomach plummets
like Giant Drop
a rollercoaster
claiming my cortisol
to be mated
with a tepid tongue.
I wear my gut
in my throat
struggle to breathe
look at these kids
I love
but I know
the validity
of their words.
What part am I playing
in this movie?
What am I?
I don’t feel like
I have a right
to protect
but that’s all I know.
I don’t know what to say
how to talk about race
when I only have it
on my side
wonder if my boyfriend’s
shoulders would haunch
flinch
a millisecond
of acknowledgment
of the truth
their words.
Their innocence
making me want to be
a barrier
between this world
and them
to take every
ricochet word
thrown at them
to wear down
the skin
of my armor.
Just like Hulk
I have a body
made for protection
I’m a live nerve
accepting all the pain
I’ll spit out
the bullet.
They say these children
aren’t mine
aren’t something
for me to protect
would I get between
a bullet
and be the bulletproof
body that somehow
survives to the end
of the credits
of the screen time
because
I’m not meant to die yet.
While it takes so many
black lives
on a black screen
without a second thought.
The movies never show
how fast a bullet moves
how unlikely it is
to save
in an instantaneous
moment of bang
bleeding
and you’re dead.
I ask for us
to get to the end of the movie
my boyfriend risks his life
stepping down
the street without me
to be the in-between
to save him
from someone
seeing him as fear.
They don’t understand
the anger sitting
like tempered temperament
sitting on my throat
backwash
in the jowls
of my Pitbull’s mouth
crocodile chomp
waiting to protect
the children
that aren’t mine.
When the movie
stops running
our muscles congeal
beneath the big screen
I wonder what we need
to say
and what is left
to be the end
of the reel
we cut out
and don’t explain.
Sarah Bellum Mental is a Chicago poet now living in Houston, TX. Her biggest accomplishment is vanquishing anxiety when she performs poetry. Her first book can be found on https://www.sarahbellummental.com.