Nightcrawling

by Leila Mottley

I showed up to my own daddy’s funeral in a neon-pink tank top and nobody said a word.

It ain’t my place to have a problem with somebody else’s survival.

Fear don’t do nothing but paint red across the neck, tell them all how easy it is to split you open.

I’m starting to think there is no such thing as a good cop, that the uniform erases the person inside it.