There is a girl in the black box

This tale-poem is inspired by a memoir ‘Negroland‘, Margo Jefferson and the movies I’ve watched recently – ‘Suburbicon’ (I’d advice to imagine that Suburbicon-city is our Earth, to feel a bigger picture and how we’ve messed all up) and movie ‘Marshall’ (based on the true story, a bit slow, but well-done movie).
I’m going to post the book review later this evening, you are welcome to check! 

There is a girl in the black box.
The man asks her: ‘What are you doing there?’
She says: ‘I don’t know. But thank you for stopping by.’

Next morning he tells his wife
About a girl in the black box.
She shrugs: ‘Why do you care?’
‘Because she’s “me”’, – he responds with a worried look.

In the evening the box is surrounded by people.
“Peopled people”.
Who never lived in the box.
They talk loudly about the girl.
Like she is not there,
Each their movement.
To be invited to the conversation.

‘The box isn’t the issue’, – says one.
‘The girl should stay where she belongs’, – says another.
‘I have a rifle’, – says the third.

‘Good night.
Sweet dreams, people,’ –
the girl is tired from a cacophony of voices.

The crowd has frozen: ‘How dare you?’

There is an empty black box on the street.

It is still black. Just like everything around us.

Featured image – amazing photo of Winston Tinubu (Flikr),  next post – Book Review ‘Negroland’


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