We’re gathering unsaid goodbyes—a mother’s
to her 13-year-old son falling in the grainy dark
of bodycam footage. George Floyd pleading his
goodbyes between pavement and murdering knee.
Bright flowers piled in spots where goodbyes
were never said, photos and notes at places we saw
life abbreviated. Each day there are more, countless
goodbyes left at FedEx plants and roadside spas.
We can’t bulldoze enough schools to quiet
the hallways and the screaming goodbyes they echo
after the chattering of gunfire among lockers.
Instead, we carry these stories to the next ruined place,
marked with police tape, mourners already
gathering to cry for the unsaid goodbyes.