Poetry: The Invasion By Karen Crawford

The Invasion

 

You’re not welcome here, they say. 

These masked invaders 

In unmarked cars. 

They tackle. 

Drag. Kick. Tase. 

Someone’s grandfather, 

Someone's mother. 

They shackle. 

Hands. Feet. Waists. 

Someone's sister, 

Someone’s son. 

They detain someone's doctor. 

Cage someone's friend. 

Crush someone's dream. 

Kill someone's dignity. 

Red. Black. Yellow. Brown. 

Citizen?

 

 

 

 

 

Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels. Recent work has been included in Bending Genres, The Citron Review Blood+Honey and elsewhere. Find her on Bluesky @karenc.bsky.social and X @KarenCrawford_