I want to say I admired their willingness to be vulnerable / thestrength to trust a world / won’t take what’s yours, which couldbe true if bravery means ignorance of danger, or to decide,foolishly, the consequence don’t outweigh the good in trustingothers, but I’ve seen others / dig their eyes through my curvedspine when I walk with a white man, and I know Mildred didtoo. It’s always an/other starting history. The call that tippedCaroline county / cops to action when the tired moon eased highto sleep then Sheriff Brooks and his deputies eased through theLovings’ door / didn’t stop / to admire the Lovings’ trustleaving / the door unlocked / they stole through the loving nestwith the Lovings nestled in sleep, the cops’ flashlightssweeping kitchen and clattered pans / the work boots scatteredby the easy chair / carpeted halls / paisley lamps and pictureframes / the bulb bouncing the walls and Brooks in chase. Hesaw the Lovings. His tongue clicked off / his round teeth thesound of a lock snapped shut. Didn’t anyone teach Mildred totrust / is to leave yourself / open to dogs with teeth / called lawin their jaws. Didn’t anyone teach Mildred the law / like love /ain’t built on reason? But the Lovings were no more blind intheir trust of others than their trust of what protected them, theirmarriage certificate framed on the wall, proof of lawful unionbut Brooks said that’s no good here and locked them up. Howto know what protects me / won’t end me? The law means nogood / from whispers at Wal-Mart / when the waitress refusesme eye-contact / when my cousins wonder why I like whiteboys aloud / and I think at least our love is legal now, like thelaw never legalized the wrong / thing but who could imaginethe security I find in his arms as he wraps me in sleep asanything but beautiful?