two women
changed a car battery
and a man had to supervise
lest they blew a whole
through reality
and let sulfuric acid
corrode the very
chains that bind us

ignorant to the fires
that are decimating
our lungs, that man
held fast to his crop
speculating on futures
where a black woman
with beaded red braids
nails sharper than razor wire
and a white woman
with grease on her face
fell to their feet
as his white horse appeared,
conveniently forgetting
he’s already killed us
well and good

pink manicure in tact
wiper blades replaced
both women ignored
his high five, shook hands
and parted ways
understanding the world
was already, melting away

Tamara Fricke is the 2010 co-winner of the Gertrude Claytor Award of the Academy of American Poets and is previously published by The Lyon Review, Meat for Tea, Attack Bear Press Poetry Vending Machine, Whisper and the Roar, We Will Not Be Silenced, and has been included in a number of compilations.  Her poetry chapbook Our Requiem was released in 2014.  She lives in Springfield, MA, with an ungrateful cat, where she writes grants professionally.