Where to find humans after they become an endangered speciesA Poem by M. Shepherd
The first night of the riots
a hooker gave me a safety clip and told me to be safe. I was not rioting but knocking on doors in her rundown neighborhood, collecting signatures for a petition to declare monarch butterflies an endangered species. I'm not sure if she was actually a hooker because I'm not sure whether or not red porchlights mean prostitution anymore, but I am also not sure how much of her face was a human face underneath all of the paint. She offered to sign my petition before I could even tell her why butterflies are dying. I think she acutely understood it's the same reason everything is dying. I'm glad she didn't have to witness the man with the white mustache I'd visited the previous day, standing at the door of his tasteful acreage, who had listened politely, said no thank you, closed the door, and locked it quietly. I pinned the safety clip to my jacket. © 2016 M. ShepherdAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
457 Views
3 Reviews Shelved in 1 Library
Added on November 12, 2016Last Updated on November 13, 2016 AuthorM. ShepherdPortland, ORAboutLate bloomer and shy of sharing I'm ever reticent to reveal But here I am, ready. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|