i guess i'll walk these streets
shaking
my fingers boring holes in my wrists
i hold my rage so tight.
and that clipclopclip
of my heels isn't followed by
a menacing echo,
it's the beat to my march.
i guess i'll walk these streets
with my eyes wide open
because i like to look around,
i like to look you in the eye
when you offer your advice
when i spit in your direction
that
i deserve to Be Safe
not Keep Safe.
i guess i'll hope you'll understand that
if i need your help
i really need it
and i need you ears
and not your eyes
and not your hand.
i guess i'll walk these streets
screaming, singing,
hear us.

i get smaller. i fashion a small boat from your smallest nail. stroke stroke stroke my head (i'm nervous) my thigh (i jump) stroke stroke stroke you exhale and the river drowns me.