19 of 30/ ON WALKING DOWN THE STREET AS A HUMAN BEING/ 47

it almost felt alien to me, 

not hearing a whistle as I walked

past a group of boys, not feeling

the heat of a stranger’s glare on 

my back, or more accurately,

my ass, not feeling exposed with

every step I take, not feeling

like meat waiting to be turned

into a meal, not feeling like 

a target, waiting to be shot at.

Read the entire poem on Rising Phoenix Review!

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