|street art, Richmond, VA|
Will Robinson! Will Robinson!
it's time again,
& truth be told you can find it anywhere,
even going to the bathroom
(if you know what you are
his sister sits in a padded chair,
among the mothers waiting to pluck
children from the bowels of classrooms
when the bell rings (when the bell rings!)
it's been a year since they fired me,
(you can't counsel when the client is unwilling
or the guardian no longer wants accountability)
'how's your brother doing?'
'oh hi, he's great. at home with mom, home
schooling now, still out in the woods
every chance he get's.'
'that's great to hear.'
'yeah your time with him did wonders.'
'i appreciate that. they still down
in Alta Vista?'
i let her go, her step son running
the shiny tiles---glad there is still space between us,
the last thing we did before, was report her brother
to the authorities. on the way to the store,
he casually looked at me, deadpanning
'wouldn't it be fun to have a sniper rifle
on top of the Walmart.'
YES, Will Robinson, it's time to run,
DANGER, DANGER, DANGER
us, unchecked---& they fired me
for telling someone.
written for Poetry Jam
happened about 18 months ago and while at the time i did not lose my job i lost the client for reporting his threats and behavior. the mom was afraid they would take her son away if i kept reporting on him. denial and avoidance---one of the greatest dangers.