I bust out a bottle of summer rose’
fill up a bright blue plastic beer cup
half full with wine,
check to see if it’s all in my belly pack—
flashlight, cell phone, bio-degradable poo-poo bags.

The dog has the leash in his mouth,
teeth clenched on it,
shaking it like it’s a mole he just nabbed.

We go for our evening walk,
the sky bends from blue to indigo,
a red streak fading.

A helicopter has been circling
slowly for almost every night now, 
the dog is spooked by the sound, 
he cowers—we are out after curfew.

Less than 3 miles away
are the protests:  Justice for Breonna
Less than 5 miles away, on Chestnut,
the windows of my son’s bar, shattered,
bricks and bats, but really
anger, rage, desperation, disgust: 
Justice for Breonna.

40 or so years ago I would join them—
chanting, raging, walking night after night
in sticky relentless heat:  Justice Justice
Justice for Breonna,
down Broadway to Baxter to
Bardstown Road and back:
Justice for Breonna.

I can’t go—my husband’s big heart tied
into knots depending on a battery to keep pace,
at-risk during this pandemic,
we are locked-down,
the pandemic has opened the Pandora’s box:
inequities of all kinds revealed—many vulnerable–
many lives at stake.

So many lives at stake–
I drop off a pallet of water bottles at a curb,
hope the protesters find it,
send money to Dare to Care, the Humane Society,
the local bail fund, the KY Covid 19 fund:
Justice for Breonna
So many lives at stake.