POETRY for our {Comfort Zone} Prompt: Heir

I out in the sunshine with the Spanish-

speakers they take their lunch I take mine.

I’m not sure if we’re sharing the same

sun or if the motion passed and that’s been

outlawed now.

It doesn’t matter:

silence

is segregation enough.

They finish

their whispered homemade laughing break and then

begin sweeping the area around

my feet.

No one asks me to move although

I can feel them wanting me to.

There were

times when I could speak with them without a

reason to act as translator.

Today

I stay seated and know I’m no better.

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