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This Is America

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The blood spilled from their chests
like the love they tried so hard to hide,
but finally let out of the closet.
Their names flew by on the news,
a thirty second sound bite,
two more victims of a silent genocide
this country tries so hard to hide.
“At this point,” the police say, “there’s no reason to believe
the couple was killed because they were gay.”
Then why did the bullets hone in on their rainbow hearts?
There weren’t any other targets.
We’re working from the same set of facts,
so don’t pretend the fact that these two girls
walked down the street hand in hand
has nothing to do with the fact
that someone thought they’d serve their country better dead.
“This is America,” they say, “that couldn’t happen here.”
But this is America, where it happens every year.
Why isn’t every police officer or news anchor
that refuses to admit that hate crimes exist
charged with one?
Because every time someone sweeps
another dead gay kid under the carpet,
they’re showing that they couldn’t care less about the heart inside,
the rainbow too afraid to shine.
Because this is America.




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