the police do not intervene

By Sandra Renew | 28 Nov 19
Julian Meehan

veins under her sunmarked skin, lifting blue like maps of inland watercourses, attracting colours red, yellow, green,
tattoos on the side of her neck pulse glow reaching around in tendrils to grasp her throat
the crowd leans in, all their voices blending in one anticipatory bloom of abusive satisfaction

police cordons, more uniforms than protestors, arms linked across both ends of the intersection
torn cardboard signs red lettering broken wooden stakes all bleed into the gutter in the downpour
the crowd waits, wanting action, wanting anything, pushed forward from behind.
the police do not intervene