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Rabbi Burns, just blessed,

the phosphate, and bombs


Aimed at, but all missing,

the Ham'as catacombs


Joe Biden is blinkered

  as Gaza is splintered


  But America, never has,

       had any qualms
every time
i speak my own
name i taste
the blood of
my mother's bit
lip (&) held tongue-- a self shed
to take rein

o' my father's flatiron
sur/name:
the blood, reigned (&)
i remain—
sanguine & ruddy
after all
(these broods).
thoughts on immigration, identity, class & patriarchy.
fear rose | a big choking risen by red-blue flashes and I pull over, past
the intersection under a row of street lights | thinking about my education, my nightgown waiting back home, wondering why
on earth | where are you going | where are you from | have you been drinking | who are you | who are you?? | clang in my rearview mirror,
a pair of cruisers circle in, intensity creaked in brown-nosed perplexion before black eyes, bloodshot, bothered, real country on the breeze
this balmy night and please don't hurt me,
the sound of slippers across
the kitchen floor is so hazy from here.
first traffic stop, ftp
when I reached the age of reason I hit the ground,
running. the thought flits
across compact mirror smudged from years of overuse &
abandon, left behind
in purse bottoms and backpacks every time I switch up my style &
move on to something:
new/ fresh / else.  

a glance into glass &
I'm transported: a babe on white lambskin,
a second-hand nostalgia never wholly mine.
a missing, another memory removed,
a down-to-the-wire tally
added to the roster, unexpectedly
the emotional prodigy, ostracized
alongside destined veracity: as in my absolute
devotion to                                                               ­            TRUTH!
the time skip, a box-out, a blackout, a kindness.
a comfort over the desk chair where homework            completes itself
after countless 'mixtape playlists' limewired maniacally
alphabetized, rearranged & revised until dawn/

another decade/chapter: a bookworm,
a blockout, a maneuver 'round roadblock,
a machination, a manipulation, a deadening, a defeat,
an assistant Mother only a child
self, the intrigue... yet

here I am, a spectacle,  
a miracle, a smashing, a light on an island out at sea,
an accident, a ripening survived.

can I trust myself. to dive in. for/by myself?
when I lift the stretch of lambskin from an atticked brown box,
a painted porcelain plate hits the ground,
shattered.
cptsd is a *****.
alt title: befriend demons detested.  throw them (a party).

alt title: bury the hatchet / forget it(s resting place).

alt title: cry (less.  feel) more.

alt: love / alt-love.

(alt.) LOVE.
notes on unexpected police harassment & questioning in a public space.
i am
the roses
in our garden
with thorns, shared,
kept / kept distance
ensnares me's
& you's, all
too my purpose:
to inspire, to provoke,
and "I do" both
equally
well.
my god is femme.
she is desert
                    moon
& every lone star.
she is fresh, roast hazelnuts
& breaks
                law  :  defiant
crystals slumbering
at the bottom of my mug.
she is both,
                      first
sip after sleepless nights
& the night     :     the day.
my god never
     rests, never
                      dies.
she is both,
       & always        
                        last.

— The End —