The best thoughts swim around
your mind when you’re locked up
in a box with nothing but the
quiet darkness and cool concrete walls
as your canvas
I’m thinking about Zenobia
so the first thing I draw
is a butterfly
the curved lines of its wings
in flight
fluttering in the air
changing the movement
of atoms and molecules
shifting the tiniest cells
the smallest, most irrelevant truths
so that one big thing can happen
way on the other side of this wall
of this cell
of this prison
Then I write
I THREW THE FIRST PUNCH
It was me who stepped to him first
It was me who balled up my fist
and hit him so hard he went
stumbling but not falling
he caught himself
and came back for me
The look in his eyes
I knewI knew
he wanted to destroy me
And the other guys around me
were going to war
People started
coming out of their houses
somebody had a bat
somebody yelled
I’m calling the cops!
Somebody threw that word
around again
nigger
nigger
nigger
like it’s the fucking 1950s
It echoed
bounced off the houses
reached the sky
landed on the pavement
and it wasn’t even the word
that made us run for our lives
made me leave my skateboard
made me climb over a gate
almost fall flat on my face
mess up my hands and knees
made me double over
trying hard to catch my breath
made me sit on a curb
when I wasn’t even home yet
so that those cops
pull up right in front of me
lights blazing
guns drawn
rushing to me as if
I was about to make them chase me
when all I was doing was
catching my breath
catching my breath
catching my breath
Even while they pushed
me to the ground and
shoved my face
against the pavement
pulled my hands behind
my back
handcuffed
handcuffed
handcuffed
and threw me into the back seat
threw me into a room
with a table and chair
as I whispered
as I said
as I shouted
It was a fight!
It was a fight!
IT WAS JUST A FUCKING FIGHT
I write this
on the wall
in giant letters
It’s so dark
I can’t even see
where my words land
I don’t even know
who is hearing this drawing
through the silence