Maybe it’s the way
the world stops
when your sirens turn on
that makes the power
go to your head.
Or maybe it’s the way
you know
those spinning lights
turn all eyes toward you
that gets you thinking you’re the best thing since bread got sliced.
Or maybe it’s that
we lauded you when we were young,
that you were smiling
on our classroom posters,
in our dated textbooks.
A hero on the page.
Maybe the power goes to your head
cause you imagine yourself a legend,
cause you know
we tell our children
of your great brutality,
warn them against you.
It makes you
big in the chest
and you
get to thinking you're the best thing since chocolate and peanut butter.
Maybe it’s because
you get to thinking
we could not survive you.
I mean,
survive without you.
You are there
in our darkest moments,
when we call on you
in our desperation
or when you come find us
and bring cracked bones with you.
In these moments,
you believe you are
saving someone.
You believe
any peaceful neighborhood
is quiet
because of you
and you start thinking
you're the best thing since somebody stumbled over honey.
Officer, sheriff, deputy,
whatever title you wear as your great crown,
You been tryna eat up our communities,
consume our bodies,
be nourished by our submission.
Well, I hope you’re starting to see
there’s a reason
you don’t eat bright-colored things
in the wild.
And there’s a reason
you don’t see lambs
eating lions.
We don’t make good food.
I hope you’re starting to see
you are not our apex.
