Exceptional One grim moment that we hope is dead and gone. Dark Nostalgia by Gerard F Keogh Rhyming Poetry Contest contest entry

One town unlocks their Baptist cage.  They shout and scream unholy rage.  The scorching sun sears all beneath, unused whips snap from their teeth. Their eyes are slits that sting of salt. Born black, born here, it's all his fault. And what they learned at mother's knee keeps cadence, creaking from a tree. Author Notes We would always hope that this kind of violence would go out of style, but it always comes back in a thousand different ways. It is one virus for which science has no cure.

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