by Thalia Rose

Thalia Rose (she/her) is a writing scholar of Rider University’s class of 2024. She specializes in poetry and recreations of Caribbean mythology/folktale. She loves tea, painting and nature.

My block don’t know sleep
We’ve got cameras and permanent sirens
Lullabies are the pop pop of gunshots and frankly it’s become a bit difficult to sleep without them

My block is permanently decorated with the festive yellow and black tape that says
“Yeah we wa here”
My blocks got the jolly man patrolling with his festive lights
Inviting his black suited primo

My blocks got class
We got swag
We got leather pipes serving cancer with every glass of water
We got blocked off roads
too large vehicles maneuvering too small streets because they gotta fix those pipes, but they’ve
been taking they damn time

We got bloc parties that end with dead bodies
We got 4th of July fireworks that everyone seems to know are not our usually lulling gunshots
We don’t got blood soaked sidewalks
Come on we got decorum
We do got splattered brains and intestines of unknown fury creatures and family friendly bodegas
serving in rodent filled kitchens but what can we do?
The rodents are a crucial part of this neighborhood