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 & West,

a Rottweiler pounced upon the metal,

barking as if we aimed 

to torpedo her home.

I jumped, my city stupor

shaken into Sunday morning fear

yet Batman’s tiny black body 

growled right back.

I’ve never seen him murder a rat 

but he has the teeth for it. 

 

At the corner of MLK Way, 

I prepared for a pit bull 

to bark out a litany of anger. 

Instead, she sat back, gaping 

from her grassless reality. 

 

At the end of our loop, 

we heard a gospel 

echoing from the 37th Street Baptist Church.

Batman yelped out a shot of pleasure

into our 9:00 AM air.

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