sun pours liquid gold onto your skin and asks for nothing in return, burnishing brown-bronze back knotted like basalt against the stark of my bed sheets, i get jealous of the way rain seeps into you, bleeds through your pores, i want to get that close, rub stardust into every crater, let me breathe the same air, […]Read More cataclysm
Dear 15-year old me, I’m sorry nobody ever told you – That you were sold dreams, That America is a dream you’ll pay too much for. That your parents will break their backs, Trying to buy an education that’s breaking you in two. That they will grow thin, Bargaining for your place in spaces that […]Read More Dear 15-year old me.
You may never understand her. She is chaos personified, She has alleys in her mind that God has forgotten ever creating, Detours worn into soft grey matter by her running endless circles, Losing and finding her reflection every now and again, Making a big show of self-love while drinking rum backstage, and Ceremony out of […]Read More The Complicated Ones.
“Njabulo Ndebele, the influential South African critic in exile, called for intimacy and introspection to be restored to a literature dominated, in his view, by the spectacular and exterior, by heroic contests between the powerless and the powerful.” [http://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/apr/24/featuresreviews.guardianreview19] This poem is about as close to a love song as I think I’ll ever get. It’s […]Read More Winnie Meets Nelson
A hundred times too much, a thousand never enough, So I try to make myself easier for you to digest. Smaller, lighter, sharper lines around my silhouette, I want to fit myself into a neat, little package, More convenient to carry. I pull back my edges and fold in my curves, And try not to walk […]Read More Black. and Woman.