so I could see the people behind me
so they can see me
Not the version of me they see in those drawings—
eyes like dead spaces on my face, mouth turned down
nose wide like my father’s
cheekbones high like my grandma’s
Not the version of me they see on TV—
head down, arms pulled back
wrists cuffed
mean-mugged
name in mud
But the real me, like, past my face, past my story
and into my eyes so they’d know
what really happened that night
I’d let each one of them step into my soul
and walk those city streets
walk through that building’s door
walk through that school’s halls
sit in those classes
sit on those front stoops
sit on those trains
stand in those lines
stand on those corners
stand in front of this judge
And maybe my whole soul
my whole life
will be like a mirror
And instead of me
here in this courtroom
it would be
the People versus the People
. . . versus Amal Dawud Shahid, she says
Keep my name out your mouth, lady, I say
But she don’t hear me, though
No one hears me
My lips are sealed
but my words have a life of their own
Even if they’re locked up
they’ll bounce off three walls and slip between
metal bars
They’ll say what’s up to the inmates
mean-mug the COs
walk out of the security-tight doors
fly out of this place
aim for the sky, kiss the clouds
and shout to that stale wind
that my name is Amal
and
Amal means hope
The jury finds, she says
As if this is a game of hide-and-seek
and I’m curled up under some table
my body balled up like a fist
like in my mom’s belly
Or in some closet, behind her dresses
smelling like perfume
like home
like cooked food
like plans for the future
like maybe-somedays
like see-you-tomorrows
. . . the defendant, she says
As if it’s my name
As if I came into the world
with fists blocking
boxing gloves like
Holyfield, Louis, Frazier
Tyson, Rocky, and Ali
Counting Game
One count of
attempted murder with a deadly weapon
The prosecutor had to prove
that I grabbed my skateboard
and swung it at his head
and tried to kill him
But Clyde got that first charge reduced to
aggravated assault and battery with a deadly weapon
The prosecutor had to prove
that I grabbed my skateboard
and swung it at his head
when his DNA wasn’t even on it
so Clyde got it reduced to
one count of
aggravated assault and battery
Knockout Game
Shay would punch me on the arm whenever
he spotted a Volkswagen Beetle
That was the rule of the punch buggy game
And I’d punch Shay back really hard because
Umi always said, Somebody hit you, you hit ’em back
That was the rule of that game
So I turned down the plea deal
and pleaded not guilty
Because Clyde said it was self-defense
Jeremy Mathis’s mother must’ve
told him the same thing
Somebody hit you, you hit ’em back
Because I threw the first punch
Ball Game
I really learned about
self-defense
while playing basketball
full court, five-on-five
When the ball
is on their side
and you trying to block
that three-point shot
And they know their turf
better than you do
but you know your
whole team
But still
it’s their court
it’s their hood
And all you trying to do is
steal the ball, intercept, block
and go home
go home
Go home
is what those people
in East Hills were saying to us
So it wasn’t about
who threw the first punch
It was about courts, turf, space
Me and them other boys
were just trying to go home
Counting Game II
On
the
count
of
aggravated
assault and battery—
the jury finds the defendant
guilty
the juror says
There’s a stone in my throat
There’s a brick on my chest
The stone turns into a mountain
The brick turns into a building
And it feels like a giant, heavy thing
like the whole world
is pressing down on me
The Scream
Rage is a deadly feeling, Umi once saidIt doesn’t move
anythingIt just makes you wanna punch a wall or a face It
just sits there, this heavy, dark thing in front of your eyes
making you feel nothing but hunger beating in your empty
bellySo you’re forced to face it and open your mouth
wide to swallow it whole, thinking that it will go down
smooth like warm milkBut rage is a thing with
bones and blood and screams that turn into
flames, so you have to chew on itTake
in all the sharp bitterness that makes your
tongue and mouth and words go numb
You don’t even know when it reaches
your throat because it’s already there
in your bellyHeavy thing not
moving like a heart stopped
The Scream II
I turn around to see Umi
and the stones fall out of my mouth
But he was still—
I didn’t—
Umi—
More stones clog my throat
and I am choking on my words
I am choking on my tears
I am choking
I am
I am choking
I am choking on my tears
and I am choking on my words
More stones clog my throat
Umi—
I didn’t—
But he was still—
and the stones fall out of my mouth
I turn around to see Umi
Refrain
What was I supposed to say?
That I didn’t do it, over and over again
like it’s a number-one hit single?
The platinum record of the summer
with a dope beat by some DJ?
That little kids make up dances in viral videos to—
I didn’t do it
That white girls strum guitars on YouTube to—
I didn’t do it
That church choirs sing the gospel remix to—
I didn’t do it
That Ellen does her two-step dance routine to—
I didn’t do it
And I’m over here
shouting to the judge, jury, cops, reporters
his moms, my moms, that
I threw the first punch but not the last—
I didn’t do it