Poem for Renee Good  –– Poet and speaker of truth –– Your brains splayed,  You exposed them, in the most dramatic of ways. Bitch. What dies there, where you lived your last stanzas?

A Longette Lite by Jessica Perini¹

From every crime bullets are born

Pablo Neruda (‘I’m explaining a few things’)

What dies there²  Standing up to the masked man /  Where you lived your last stanzas?
What dies there? Not the misery and manipulations –– they live; Spent shells on the sidewalk
made for political purpose / Not to rid the streets of immigrants ­–– Illegal or no 
No matter / Not to find truth ­–– when within minutes a distinct narrative emerges ––
“She’s at fault, clearly –– Deservedly” / No matter / All are tools to prop up political pundits
Their power-seeking plans / Fear betrothed.

But you, You exposed them, In the most dramatic of ways. Your brains splayed.
Bitch. No ambulances permitted in your dying presence / Not while life exists in essence.
They came too early –– Left too late / Your ode seemingly bereft / Among a dying moral code
But what you did –– Yes you, unflinchingly –– Where we, ourselves, might hide
behind our curtains –– Might watch –– Tut tutting ­–– that’s certain. But you –– 
You put your body there / For cameras across the globe to share / Composed your truth.
Invited the world, Come and see the blood in the streets.³

Truth did not die with your body / Twixt the marauding crowds on the streets’ beats
You ­­–– the bitch who spoke too loud amid the wavering ethos of a militarised crowd
You ­­–– who parked too close –– badgered the masked man beyond his role
And his precious borders of self-control. You who married the wrong Gal.
You are at fault –– you –– did all the things –– you ain’t supposed to do.

And now it is revealed –– You wrote poetry.  Ffs. Bitch! Clearly. You. Deserved. To. Die.
You stared eye-to-eye with the masked man.  You / Tore the mask from the ugly face
Now displayed / For the world to see / With bullets of truth.

1. Edited by Catherin J Pascal Dunk. ↩︎
2. Italicised words are the final line from Renée Nicole Macklin’s 2020 Academy of American Poets Prize-winning poem, ‘On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs’, https://poets.org/2020-on-learning-to-dissect-fetal-pigs. ↩︎
3. Italicised words are from Pablo Neruda, ‘I’m Explaining a Few Things’, 5th last line, https://hellopoetry.com/poems/9924/im-explaining-a-few-things.
   
   For more information on Renee Good’s death, see, for example: https://www.vera.org/explainers/the-ice-killing-of-renee-nicole-good-is-a-watershed-moment-for-trump
   
   Cover photo reused from https://www.vera.org/explainers/the-ice-killing-of-renee-nicole-good-is-a-watershed-moment-for-trump (permission sought 10 Feb 2026) ↩︎