Driving in America passing palm trees,
Florida’s grassy green marshlands, counting
mile-markers in the rear seat of a gray
station wagon with my brother. He
and I navigating a map longer
than our arms, playing magnetic checkers
and chess, reading, counting red cars
and navigating again. Across
the Georgia border, dirt is dusty red
on hills edging fields of floating
cotton. The radio in Atlanta
reports that 19 black boys and girls
our age were missing or dead. We navigated
our car without ceasing across
the Georgia-Tennessee line. A Big Boy
restaurant wasn’t as friendly
as the statue with static wave and smile
out front. Entering the door, a stage curtain
opens, ninety-four eyes fixate—our family
stops at entrance scared from the shadow
on our skin.
Mervyn Seivwright
Mervyn Seivwright holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Spalding University, Louisville KY. He is of Jamaican heritage, born in London, England while he currently lives in Schopp, Germany.