On the Execution of Desmond Carter
by Cissy Mckissick
They killed my friend last night.
He was the daddy of an 11-year-old girl,
a son, a grandson, a nephew, a brother, a Muslim.
He was my cherished friend and adopted little brother for seven years.
They killed him last night.
They killed my friend last night.
He killed his neighbor,
an elderly white woman he described as an adopted grandmother.
He killed her after years
of neglect,
of finding his home on the streets;
while irrational,
in a state of paranoia,
and high on a deadly mix of cocaine, tranquilizers and alcohol.
They killed him last night.
They killed my friend last night.
They were sane, dispassionate, methodical and intentional.
They said that this murder was OK.
They said that it was sanctioned.
My heart is breaking.
They killed my friend last night.
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