They expect us
To catch bullets between our teeth,
To spit out the shells,
Adjust our vests,
Say a prayer,
And get back to class.
As if there isn’t
Leftover shrapnel
In the spines of our textbooks
(In the spines of our classmates)
They expect us to forget,
But we can’t.
We won’t.
With chipped-tooth smiles
And bloodied book bags in tow,
We march on.

They still expect us
To catch bullets between our teeth,
To spit out the shells,
Adjust our vests,
Wipe the tear gas from our eyes,
And get back to class (to work, to the streets, to home)
As if there isn’t
Leftover shrapnel
In the spines of our cities
(In the spines of our black brothers, our sisters, our people)
They still expect us to forget,
But we can’t.
We won’t.
With chipped-tooth smiles
And bloodied body bags in tow,
Still we march on.