The Anthology 

lake of the isles
By Danez Smith

my love paints graffiti all over the fancy houses
in their comics, wraps them with monsters, fills them
with better people. i do not color my hands
against the mansions that gentrify my sight
when i run the water’s limit, i don’t even think
of runnin’ up on the houses i run past
i don’t run too slow past the neighbors
who would call the cops on me if i looked
with too much intention, lookin’ like myself
this is how the state disrupts me, pigs
patrolling my mirror, the criminal maybe
keeps my pace up thru here not a problem
no sir no sir just passin’ by just one
of the neighborhood’s brief phenomena:
man spinning concrete’ into rent, not my father’s race
but his tone, attending to someone else’s home
in the season of distance, & the pigeons with the shadows of eagles
the squirrels whirling up trees to fight mid-sky, white people
masked in comfort & trust in doctors, & the dog shit
like tiny mountains of dog shit, & the cars filled with who
they filled with & the cop car just riding thru
cause there’s nothing
to see