For Troy Anthony Davis 1 Poem by Jacqui Thewless

I prayed for him. Last night
no holds barred,
his life-my-life.

Stars in the firmament
of my biography were
on death row with us in the dream that came later,

as though changing places levels injustice -
or there’s no difference between us in bad times or good.
The some-when-saviours of mine

stood in his shoes; I witnessed them
who’d showed the way, in the death cell losing their light.
My innocent

brothers
shuffled with his feet.
We punch the air -

if the killers do not come. There
were the mentors of mine, I swear, wearing his face
in place of these white ones.

Our fingers fold slack hands on dead wrists
if such miracles might not be shared by midnight.