the first time
i hated a cop
he was mouthing off his tongue
to my brother about how he ought
to show him some respect
carrying on and whatnot
as if my brother didn’t have
a little sister watching
who looked up to him
like moonlight and stars
on humid nights
those days he lead and I followed
and he kept on
like my brother wasn’t
a sky scraper or something
like he wasn’t
the bridge that led to boroughs
like he wasn’t
my hero
like he wasn’t
the grandson of a union worker
who died building a water tunnel
for a coupla knucklehead kids
trying to turn fire hydrants into car washes
i saw how brown and black boys grow
into themselves angry at the world
that day no matter what
a sister did to show her love
she couldn’t make a boy no man
he wasn’t bent on becoming
and even when I thought I was fighting him
i was fighting them
we were always fighting them
all those people out their fighting us
doing everything to remind us
of our place,
and i couldn’t undo
all the hate that builds
watching the men you love cower
watching the men you love cower
bend
kneel to the scowls of overseers
all the bright and magic that dims
the light lowers
the bright and magic
dims
being policed for being
too poor
too much a shade
a color
a shade of color
too close to the root
too close to the color
a shade
too close
to the color of a beating
beaten
beating heart.