A Dappled People Now Poem by Donal Mahoney

Six months ago
an old black couple
moved into an old brick house

on a block of old white people.
A dither erupted over the fences
as neighbors realized there was

nothing they could do now.
So the white folks did nothing
but the black folks did something.

They barbecued on Sundays
in their back yard after church.
Gossip reported they preferred

ribs by the slab but no report
could be made on the side dishes.
Even with binoculars peering

through rickety blinds, old eyes
couldn't determine the side dishes.
They are a dappled people now.