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Promoting rapid sheltering of unsheltered & unprotected women.

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most days she sits
she and her small clean dressed daughter
on a narrow red concrete curb
in lengthening single tree shade
across from a specialty grocery store
she can’t afford
their cardboard box panel
black markered sign
explains their plight
their bad luck reasons
for begging.
a woman visiting from Canada
Vancouver Island
asks me-
Is she for real?
Probably, I reply.
she walks across the market lot
gives her some cash
That’s terrible,
she says returning.

the store manager and assistant manager
both in blue uniforms
with regular salaries
medical benefits
and paid vacations
hollow Howdy Dowdy faces

tower intimidatingly
over the small brown pair.
the store manager’s phone out
ready to call for back up.
she stands
half their sizes
then invokes a god’s curse on them
and their questionable legal grounds
and their bullying pasty privilege.
then mother and daughter slowly walk
to the less lucrative parking lot driveway.
upscale market patrons
shielded from sharing their discomfort
a store approved
crisp white uniformed woman
with cross patches
and rattling donation can.
god bless greets,
and accepts
organizational monies
that won’t get
to the chased away destitute mother and daughter
hungry tonight.


(c)2018 Rex Butters

Don't Stop

she was warned
she was given
an explanation
she persisted
in other words
she resisted

she insisted upon her rights
from the dead dark knights
of fading dominance
toxic masculinity
calls her little lady
putrid patriarchal patois
dusty-dicked deacons of decay

an awakening people
to whom they’re repugnant
atavistic density proudly displayed
their every public action
hypocritical charade
their only priority
getting paid
she persisted

in the face of their ham fisted

illegal censure

a dubious procedural mis-adventure

to prevent her
from calling a racist a racist
small brained
rights reducing runts
attempt to rule us

with their mouth breathing grunts

can’t bear to hear
Coretta Scott King’s

they hate their betters
attempt to chain with abstract fetters
the Truth of these women
like gnats on a light
blinded by fright
their tiny speck shadows
obscure only their existence
their impotent posturing
only fuels the radiant resistance


the future they fear


(c)2018 Rex Butters

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