After Monday’s relative draught, I did a lot of writing yesterday. The subjects included Harpo Marx, vampires (not necessarily of the Dracula variety), and train travel. This poem is one of two I wrote about Anthony Hill, the young black man who was killed Monday afternoon by a police officer—despite the fact that Hill was not only unarmed, but unclothed. The opening of the poem comes from a quote appearing in one of the many news articles that have been written about the incident…
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