In unfamiliar territory, remember landmarks 
to map the way back, Circle K on the south-
east corner – a defunct Chevy Impala parallel
parked on the street. My mother taught
a heightened sense of awareness in places whose
streets bear strange names, how to look for
what in darkness wants to snuff me out.
There's a buck who will forget hunting season,
and your bullet will be the one to drop his body
to the wood's golden floor – your anxious
heartbeat triggering the shotgun.
But who says the buck didn't know?
After all, my response when a man yelled
Faggot boi was neither flight nor fight.

MARS. Marshall is a writer and film photographer born and raised in Detroit. Their work has been published in Four Way Review, Obsidian Literature & Arts for the African Diaspora, Michigan Quarterly Review: The Mixtape, Foglifter Journal, and elsewhere. MARS.is a Nancy Craig Blackburn ’71 Fellow and MFA Candidate at Randolph College.