When Oakland took their bullet

for a walk, that runaway caliber

pressed its width into brown skin

within a multigenerational neighborhood

outsiders stamp as another ghetto.

Oakland took their bullet for a jog

to shake off the residue

of last night’s murder.

A brown skin boy

I knew since he drank orphaned milk

got his dinner removed

after Oakland took their bullet for a sprint

through screams bouncing from a jungle

gym open from dawn to dusk.

A brown skin body lies unheard

in an autopsy room. Oakland

dances with their bullet

while a brown skin family

sleeps with hollow stomachs.