It’s light that makes me want to
curl into myself
like nappy hair in water
getting closer to skin
finding that warm safe place
to hide away from this world
Officer Stanford is what’s on his badge
A black dude with a smooth face
who helps the other guys off the bus
I watch how he holds elbows
puts his hand on backs
gentle almost, like a teacher
We’re quiet as hell, too
because the only sound that
could come from there
is the hissing of flames
No crying, no yelling, no cursing
just the thick silence of waiting for pain
Stanford meets my eyes
and I look down
It’s my turn to step off the bus
and he lends his hand
and I have to be careful not
to step too wide or too far
or else
So I lean on him like he’s a handrail
ExceptExcept
He pulls his hand back real quick
and my step is too wide
the chain is too short
And I see the ground coming
like
a
Mack
truck
at
full
speed
And I swear
I swear
that this time
I
shatter
into
a
million
pieces
I can’t hold back the cry
because
I swearI swear
my face is broken in half
because it’s as if I’ve been
sliced all the way
down
the
middle
Stanford helps me up and
I swear
I left my face on the ground
Wet runs down my lips
and I can’t even wipe it off
because maybe what’s left
will end up on my cuffed hands
Be careful there, Shahid
he hisses
And I’m still crying like a
fucking baby
because everything hurts
And I feel like punching him
in the face so badso bad
But I
only had one fight
before that night with Omari
I didn’t always have to throw hands
block fists, dodge punches
before that night with Omari
And I’m readyso ready
to deck this grown-ass man
right in the face
if my handsmy bodymy life
weren’t in shackles right now
Let me tell you something, little nigga
he hisses in my ear
And the memorythe memory
comes back to me—
Umi grabbed and twisted my lips
when she heard me say
nigga
for the first time
I was five
and I thought it was just a word
like any other word
like my ABCs and 123s
like the old heads on the corner
my cousins from around the way
my friends at the park
calling me
little nigga
little nigga
little nigga
like it’s my name
Don’t you ever, ever let me hear you say
that word again, you hear me?
You’re not a nigger and neither are the boys
you hang around with, nor any boy for that matter
Do you hear me, Amal?
I just never let Umi hear me say it
because at school
on those streetscourtsparks
nigga was like brother
nigga was like homie
nigga was like enemy
nigga was like
everything that we are, were, will ever be
ain’t nothing but shit
like Umi had said
Stanford whispers hard like a dull blade
against thick skin
Ain’t no movie stars in here
Ain’t no fucking celebrities
Ain’t no rappers, ballers
none of that shit
Maybe this is what drowning is like
wet (blood & tears)
covering whatever is left of my face
And inside that giant gray building
the juvenile detention facility—
with its bright shining lights
is the bottom of the ocean
I won’t be able to breathe down there
Auction Block
Shoelaces and belt!
the lady behind the desk in the intake office says
She looks like every other lady back in my hood
but I don’t stare too long
because the lights here
the walls here
the glass windows and locks everywhere here
force me to stay alert
And I look down at my wingtips
The ones Umi just bought me
Shoelaces and belt! the lady yells this time
And I unbuckle and pull off the leather
My heart races because these pants
will slip down and I’ll have to keep
pulling them uppulling them up
I always hated itSagging
draws showingass exposed
I wore mine high, right at the waist
sweatpants cinched at the ankles
with Adidas or Vans
More skater than baller
More blerd than thug
More dreads than fade
More Kendrick Lamar than Blueface
More me than them
None of that will matter here
because I am being stripped naked
I’m dressed exactly like how I imagined
exactly like how I’d seen in movies
Orange jumpsuit
bootleg sneakers with Velcro straps
And if I squint only a little bit
this place even looks like school, too
with those gray walls and fluorescent lights
It’s too clean here
cleaner than my school
and a bunch of other places in my hood
And it smells like nothing
Maybe smelling nothing is like hell
There’s even a fading mural of cartoons
Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, a laughing sun
smiling birds and clouds
like this is supposed to be Disney World or something
It’s a mix of kindergarten and high school in here
As if bad paintings of smiling birds will
remind us that we’re still kids and
the metal doors will remind us
that we’re prisoners
and
there are rules
that
force
us
into
straight
lines
like
toy
soldiers
like
robots
like
worker
ants
marching
as
if
we
don’t
have
brains
I don’t think
I don’t dream
I don’t write poems
along the cracks in my mind
And I don’t spit
rhymes out loud
My face hurtsMy body hurts
but I’ve pushed pain deep down
until it’s at the bottom of these
cheap shoes
I walk all over my own feelings
crushing them until
they are
nothing
but dust
Shahid, a guard says
when we reach a giant room
with a bunch of blue doors
The doors have slots in the middle
like for hands and food trays
There’s also a glass window
big enough for a face to look out or look in
This is your cell
he says, pointing to one of the doors
This is your cell number
Remember it like your life
depends on it
So I try to forget everything