I didn't find either Seidel poem particularly moving. To me, both poems seem strangely cold and detached--as distant as Mars, both of them. Which is the same problem I've always had with Theater of the Absurd, too: most of what happens seems so removed from reality that none of it really matters.
I guess my own experience of anger and frustration and bewilderment is more visceral than Seidel's is. That's why I find poems like Rose Kelleher's, which keep things personal, more effective and cathartic. Cf. her
"On the Suicide of a Moroccan Girl Forced to Marry Her Rapist" and
"Enlightenment." (Probably her poem most relevant to Ferguson is "Maggot," from her book
Native Species. Well worth buying.)
I particularly like Rose's (non-)references to Demeter and Persephone in "On the Suicide...," because injustices aren't grand, mythical events, played out on some remote plane of existence; they are happening in the real world, to real people like us, by real people like us. Trying to view such things from a dispassionate distance, as if they are abstractions that don't have much to do with either the poet or readers, but which about which we are obliged to spend a few moments in thought, intentionally diminishes their impact. This philosophical distance may be necessary for some people to be able to deal with such overwhelming subjects at all, but it still diminishes their impact, even while apparently honoring them with a more grandiose-sounding, momentous treatment.
If I'm reading Seidel all wrong, I'm sure someone here will tell me. I suspect it's a matter of personal taste, though.