We move around each other
without ever bumping shoulders
Some of us put up more walls
Some of us look as if
we will break down all the walls
Most of us become the walls
I find a spot to sit
because it feels as if
everything that is alive inside of me
is floating away
I’m not in my body
It’s shock, that’s all . . . Shock
Grandma had said on the night of my arrest
when I stared out into a void
not here, somewhere over there
I remember that feeling
of being in a dream
or a nightmare
as if this life isn’t mine
as if I’ve stepped into the flesh and bones
of someone else pretending to be me
and I’m waiting for an opening
in the universe to pull me out of
this dream state
this smoky haze
this ghost of a body
that is not me
Sleep is trying to come at me
like a giant ocean wave
pulling me deepdeep
Maybe I can touch the ocean floor
and the ancestors of the Middle Passage
tug at my feetcall me home
Maybe this is the only time
I can breathe
underwater
Shahid!
Who knew that voices
could be so loud
under the ocean
Amal Shahid!
Who even knows my name
under the ocean
And I’m going up for air
floating to the surface
my face staring up
at a sunless, dark concrete sky
Is there an Amal Shahid in here?
Air comes to me in one big gulp
and I almost choke on my own breath
Here . . . here! I’m here!
They laugh at me
And it’s the first time
I feelI feel
Exposed
They’re clownin’ me
for being asleep
when the worldthe whole world
has peeled back our eyelids
and robbed us of any
peaceful rest
Shahid! they call out one more time
You’re up next
Processed
It’s like I’m meat or wheat
Made into a burger or deli slices
Made into pasta or bread
Processed
Not the boy I was before the machine
Before the breaking down and pulling apart
Before the adding and taking away
I was made for easy, fast consumption
Like food chains in the hood
Umi said don’t go there
That you are what you eat
Those jailsthat system
has swallowed me whole
Rights
On the night of my arrest
I thought it was the end of my life
It didn’t matter that some dude
named Miranda told me my rights
to remain silent to have an attorney
that anything I say will be used against me
I was silent and Umi got an attorney
I liked Clyde at first because he gave me books to read
To take your mind off things for a little while, he said
Books
The first book
he gave me was
The Autobiography of Malcolm X
And I thought he was
trying to tell me something
because Malcolm was Muslim
Malcolm was a thug
Malcolm was in jail
Malcolm was all about the people
Malcolm went to Mecca
Malcolm said some shit
Malcolm was shot dead
The only book
I gave Clyde was
The Rose That Grew from Concrete
I was definitely
trying to tell him something
because Tupac was a poet
Tupac was a thug
Tupac went to jail
Tupac was all about the people
Tupac went everywhere
Tupac said some shit
Tupac was shot dead
Clyde didn’t know
that Umi made me read
all about Malcolm in the eighth grade
Clyde didn’t know
that I read about Martin Luther King
and Nelson Mandela, too
Clyde didn’t know
that I read big books
and watched documentaries on my own
Clyde didn’t know
that I’d reread that book in five days
because after two months
He asked me if I was done
And by that point
I had gotten through twelve books
To take my mind off things for a little while, I said
Booked
Getting arrested and being
processed is called booked
and that place downtown
is called Central Bookings
If Jeremy Mathis
ends up dying
the judge will
throw the book at me
It’s as if all the books I’ve read
will prepare me for all the
books that are coming to me
And Umi worked as a bookkeeper
for small businesses like
Mahmoud’s fabric store
Fatima’s hair-braiding shop
Mr. Kingston’s plumbing services
and they all came to my trial
Umi didn’t have time to read books
There wasn’t enough bookkeeping
for bail money, though
Money
Bail money is freedom
but it’s not free
Bail money means going home
but it’s like renting time
Bail money made me feel as if
there was justice
Bail money let me know that
people believed me
Bail money was Umi’s friends
and family giving everything they could
Bail money was envelopes
in our mailbox
Bail money became online petitions
and a GoFundMe page
Bail money was
invisible handcuffs
Bail money was a promise
to put back on real handcuffs
Bail money is not going to
save me now
New ID
On the day of my conviction
I memorize
my inmate number
my crime
my time
On the day of my conviction
I forget
my school ID number
my top three colleges
my class schedule
DNA
Before some of us leave
the county jail
the officers chain us—
And I am shackled
again— Maybe these are the
same chains that bind me
to my ancestors—
Maybe these are the same
chains that bind me to
my father and my
father’s father and all the
men that came before
him— Linked together
like those DNA strands that
I learned about in
biology— And
maybe I’m not supposed
to break free from them—
Middle Passage
There was no
in-between time
to say goodbye
I went from
kid to criminal to felon
to prisoner to inmate
We’re moved from
the county jail
and onto a bus
and from the bus
we’re going to the
juvenile detention facility
There’s not enough of us
on this bus
to fill every seat
So I take one by the window