 Hello and good afternoon. My name is Amos White and thank you, Shizue, and thank you to San Francisco Library for hosting this as well. Let's have one poem to read and keeping it short. Remembering Trayvon. When hashtag became identity, black parents banned hoodies. Race became impolitic. Black men caught blue-ledded forties with one way inscribed on casings. When bias became M.O., black students got body slammed. Voice became scream. Black stacations meant safer with press-collared shoulder glances. When grief became breakfast, black boys lost, hands up, laid unmoved or covered with no shroud on Canfield Drive. When five years ago became today, black lives shun apology. Memory becomes a rose. Black pews will gather dust when the hearse idles weekdays. Thank you.