populate my north Oakland neighborhood

where I habitually walk my rat terrier

Batman and his spiky ears

in still-forming dawns.

Last week, as we slid past

a locked gate at 37th and West,

a Rottweiler barked up against the metal

as if we aimed

to torpedo her home.

I jumped, my city stupor

shaken into Sunday morning fear

while Batman’s tiny black body

growled right back.

I’ve never seen him murder a rat

but he has the teeth for it.

Down another block

at Market and 37th, I prepared

for a pit bull behind a fence

to bark out a litany of anger.

Instead, they sat back, gaping

from their grassless reality.

As we looped back home, a gospel

escaped from the 37th Street Baptist Church.

Batman yelped out a shot of pleasure

into our 9:00 AM air.

Published in The Town: An Anthology of Oakland Poets (Nomadic Press, August 2023)