The Anthology 
Kindred




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