Allan Rae

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Welcome to my online portfolio, home to what I feel constitutes my best literary nonfiction, poetry, flash fiction, & photography, with links to my published work, as well as the occasional editorial or research update.

Little Town, Anywhere America

There it is, again.
An intersection of historical atrocity
and yet to be claimed personal agency
taking place outside your front door.

A never ending silent refrain
the non reference to shared history
we painfully contort around. 
When, if, we speak of it the
terms are always self referential
carefully, specifically chosen
to highlight our benevolence.

It wasn’t me that did those things.”

I can’t change the past.”

I’m sure the man hanging in the tree understands. 
It wasn’t you. I’m sure he would understand
the abstraction, the concerned tones
the reflexive shaking of the head, the nods
and the appropriately held pauses.

I’m sure he thanks you for the glib
tacit support given to the cause. 
Before retreating to a white washed world
free to luxuriously massage yourself
endlessly and forcefully with sharp
admonishments of stupid angry
inbreds in a silly, white hoods.

Those people.

Certainly all of the white faces at your
dinner table would agree.

I don’t see color.”

“For all I care they could be pink, blue, or purple!”

Full support, warm smiles from the non accountable
around your table offer potent narcotic. 
Once again wrapped in lazy, hazy capes of
unspoken denial. 
Made by the name brand that is our current rage.

White.Liberal.Progressive.

There it is, again.
An intersection of historical atrocity
and yet to be claimed personal agency
taking place outside your front door.
The non accountable positioned
safely out of clear direction. 
Specific stances held to avoid the trajectory
occurring thousands of times a day in this place
we call land of the free and home of the brave.

In Little Town, Anywhere America.

A Mother Gone Too Soon

Taking Hold