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Ariana Apr 14
I used to linger in bed with you,
past my alarm,
pretending to be asleep as the
sunrise tip-toed in.
I would be late to work again
and you would hold me as if
I might slip from your arms
and float off into the sun.

Now you lay with your back to me most nights.
You kiss my lips politely, whisper
I love you with yours; but
when the morning comes
you don’t hold me
and I don’t pretend to sleep anymore.

Today,
touch starved and wide awake,
I pulled you in;
You rolled back over,
and I got up before my alarm.
June 13, 2024
Ariana Apr 14
In Her 10th year she took the form of
a large leafed aven.
A rare eye’s-smile,
bright yellow as sunshine.
Hair sprouting wild the way hand-gathered
bouquets should.
Exploding from bud to flower—

Still green with too-long legs raising her
Up,
   Up,
      Higher up by the moment;
Sun-kissed and well-fed on love.
To my daughter as we ready to enter her 12th year.
Ariana Apr 14
Loving you
sounds like undulating waves
lapping the muddy banks
of Lake Ontario.

It looks like embers
glowing so deeply red their
essence is almost lost to the warm
dark of the night where we sit
draped in damp sweaters,
full of wood smoke,
finding comfort in each other
like long lost friends
who waited centuries to be
reborn in close proximity,
together again.

Forget cheap Valentines,
we’ll carve our love letters in
the rocky sands of Cape May;
And long after
the tide washes them away,
I promise to be your best friend,
Your sweater,
and your light
if you promise to kiss me
softly under bleeding sunsets
for the rest of my life,
so that I may never forget
what loving you tastes like.
Ariana Apr 13
Time’s a thief
—though can you blame her?
I want to be in a room
bathed in shades of you, too.
So long as your laugh echoes,
still in the corners of my mind,
your birthday balloon
will remain; limply dangling from
your favorite chair in the family room,
nylon ribbons frayed and loose
Because time is unkind.

It serves to remind that
you should be here;
And I,
Bathed in shades of you.
Ariana Apr 12
I asked him why he loved me;
He whispered
"Because I do."
And it wasn't really
the answer
that I was looking for.
Ariana Apr 11
I slept for 9 hours and somehow
woke up feeling drained. And I know complaining to
a room full of strangers won’t release any of the pressure,
but the faster I speak the less I feel right now and…

My brain is pounding, my ears are buzzing,
all I know is that
I feel the way cicadas sound in the afternoon heat
where all the flowers bloomed in the morning
and then wilted, like us,
defeated.

I lay in bed next to him knowing it’s too soon to get up
but I’m addicted to the taste of my own demise,
so I raise my eyes and hold my breath.
I scan the room and all
that is left of his are
five kisses.
Not the kind that are placed gently on trembling lips
but the kind wrapped in crinkled
foil, the leftovers from the pile
that he would eat in the middle of the night
while everyone else was mid-sweet dream.
I used to be the Queen in his dreams once,
but he traded my crown to her for a picture of her smile
and still there are
Cicadas buzzing in my ears.

And my biggest fears are being recognized;
because there is no compromise to be made between
me, his dreams, and the stars.

Even if I wanted to forget about him I couldn’t
because my phone corrects the word “two” to his
name because his name is always
on my tongue and dripping from my fingerprints.
In essence he is me.

Cicadas buzzing in my ears.
Ariana Apr 10
I chew my lips and taste the blood.

Every day
My “black mother of a black baby”
rage bubbles like the worts
my lover brews
on dark rainy nights,
when he can no longer sleep or dream.
Another child murdered
at the hands of wild hogs
repeating on our screens—
Their screams keep me up all night
and beat me back down;
as the sun rises,
I boil, then still—
A hot bath of Skunky American brew.

Will my daughter ever know justice?
Or will she sit uncomfortably with the
rank taste of inequity and iron
on her lips too? I refuse to
Go down without a fight because
with trust in her heart she leans
into MY chest at night;
with fire in her eyes she reminds me
that one day she too will be ready to fight
this same fight
if it calls her.
Sleep in power, Breonna Taylor.
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