Parable of the Fists

Harriet painted a black fist on the fucking flag
sat in the principal’s office fist thrust in the air
when Mama came the worried white woman
told of other instances of Harriet’s graffiti:
a fist scrawled in black crayon on a poor pale
face floating in a history textbook
a rather large fist penned in black sharpie
on the back of Jake’s white button down oxford
bleeding ink tattooed the boy’s freckled skin
a side panel on Margie’s Hello Kitty lunchbox
and every veneered surface from chemistry to art
the school’s psychologist who pried open Harriet’s
composition notebook presumed abuse but Mama
said: my child draws fists to keep from using them—