Safe Space
By Carol Smith
Safe Space
In this English 10 classroom,
racism is not welcomed.
So, it sneaks in and hides.
It enters beneath rock band
t-shirts and tattered Levi’s
or stashed in Jansport backpacks.
It crouches under desks
like a concealed cell phone
ready for activation.
Some days, it leans against the
pale blue cinderblock wall
with the quiet back-row listeners.
Other times, it sits up straight,
eyes on the whiteboard,
with the front-row hand-raisers.
Sometimes, it peeks at the self-isolated
Black kids staring out the window
at nothing.
Under the glare of linear fluorescent
tubes, it can be hard to detect.
Especially if it flattens itself to fit
in three-ring binders
with five-paragraph essays,
or when it slithers up onto
a bookshelf and wedges
between Achebe and Coates.
Often, it lies in wait within my
teacher-mouth, ready to burst
forth as an Anglicized stutter
of an unrecognized name.
When that happens, it echoes
off the linoleum floor or ceiling tiles
and ricochets off laminated posters
of Angelou and Morrison.
Carol A. Smith writes both personal and sociopolitical poems, often reflecting upon the intersections of the two. Her work is published or forthcoming from Poets Against Racism and Hate USA, Rising Phoenix
Review, Mobius, In Parentheses, and other journals. A Philadelphia native, Carol now resides in Southern New Jersey and teaches at Rowan University. She can be reached at [email protected]. Instagram: Carolasmith_reader_writer
