I mean my mother could barely afford
rent and yet here the police were holding
the military gear pulling apart our
radiators, breaking cabinets, ransacking
our house. Shaking with anger,
I couldn't stop yelling almost
forgetting the gun pointed at me. I was
used to conjuring myself out of my body -
a gift to keep myself safe. I could
barely hear the officer yelling 'Shut up.
Be quiet.'
I couldn't stop yelling. I thought that
the more I screamed the more they would
hear me. That reckless rhythm of defiance
passed on to me from grandmother's names I
have not yet learned wouldn't allow me
to be silent.
