I. To the Cop, For Arresting Me 

 

How you doin tonight officer? 

No I don’t know how fast I was going 

officer, I don’t believe I was paying attention 

to the dashboard. I was singing. 

 

No I don’t know how fast I was going 

over the limit. Can you see my hands? I’m reaching over to 

the dashboard. I was singing 

so loud I didn’t hear your siren, officer. My backtalk is 

 

over the limit? Can you see my hands? I’m reaching over to 

open the door and step out of the vehicle. Why you yelling 

so loud? I didn’t hear your siren. Officer, my backtalk is 

a misunderstanding. I’m just trying to 

 

open the door and step out of the vehicle. Why, you yelling 

for backup? Officer, I think there’s been 

a misunderstanding. I’m just trying to 

make it home. Am I under arrest? What are the handcuffs 

 

for? Back up. Officer, I think there’s been

a mistake. Can you let me go? My mom gon worry if I don’t

make it home. Am I under arrest? What, are the handcuffs

supposed to scare me? Listen, let’s just forget this. Chalk this up as

 

a mistake. Can you let me go? My mom gon worry if I don’t

pick up the phone. She’s calling right now. And your gun is

supposed to scare me? Listen. Let’s just forget this. Chalk this up as

an apology. Officer I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die.

 

 

II. To the Mother, When Your Baby Still Hasn’t Made It Home

 

Pick up the phone, she’s calling right now. And your gun is

on the nightstand because daddy died by the blue. His last words

an apology—Officer I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die.

When you hear your daughter’s voice you touch the Bible

 

on the nightstand. Because daddy died by the blue—his last words

on repeat in the mind’s playlist—you lose it

when you hear your daughter’s voice. You touch the Bible

and only the Lord’s name falls from your lips. That old prayer

 

on repeat in the mind’s playlist, you lose it

when a police car pulls behind you

and only the Lord’s name falls from your lips. That old prayer

doesn’t work here. Before he died, daddy said

 

When a police car pulls behind you,

get your stuff out of the dashboard. Reaching for things

doesn’t work here. Before he died, daddy said

Teach your girl what to do. At the police station, you

 

get your stuff out of the dashboard, reaching for things

the way you were taught, slowly. Carefully. You hear him again in your mind—

teach your girl what to do. At the police station, you

put on your nice, innocent voice, lay it on

 

the way you were taught, slowly. Carefully. You hear him again in your mind—

Officer I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die.

Put on your nice, innocent voice. Lay it on.

How you doin tonight officer?