White Privilege (For Tamir Rice)

Pegi Deitz Shea

White boy

automatically

turns driftwood

into AK 47,

aims, holds,

trigger tight,

blankets the beach

of flattened victims

of sunburn

and alcohol

on vacation.

Gun turns to knife.

He carves his name

into the sand,

stabs

the bubbled edge

where waves

retreat in fear.

He prances,

shrieking in glee,

free as the ibis

feasting

on the wrack

left behind

by the storm.