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Marsha Singh Oct 4
I tell the girls to pick up
their clothes, to make
their beds, brush their
hair; I tell the girls to
tuck in their entitlement and
pull up their despair – there's no time.
I tell the girls to be kind, to build
up their sisters like each word is
communion and that girl is divine.
Marsha Singh Jan 15
Look, I am shook from my
shallows, ten thousand leagues
deep – my heartbeats were war-
ships; you drowned the whole
fleet, but I'll hold on to hope like
sand holds on to heat that for all of
my troubles, you could love me, at least.
Marsha Singh Dec 2018
Too late when you realized
we were dancing in quicksand –
too late and too deep, and you caught
unaware; you didn't know that my love was an
ambush. You didn't know that my heart was a snare.
Marsha Singh Nov 2018
We brought breakfast.
You fed us; we let you.
We sighed and we said that
we'd never forget you; we get you.
We licked our spoons and we left you.
Marsha Singh Sep 2018
and invited the moon into the
room – a stranger, she stole
through the night to our chambers,
a bevy of damsels to carry her candles.
She lit up our eyes; she lit up our skin
like our skin was the sky.
Then she loaned me her robe and she kissed me goodbye.
Marsha Singh Aug 2018
We came with wet
eyes, with teeth bright
as planets; we came like
weather, like daylight, hair
damp and skin flushed.

We came like sunup.

We woke the birds up.
Marsha Singh Jul 2018
if you asked,
I'd slide your shirt
down your shoulders;
I'd hold you. I'd heal you.
Christie, I feel you. I know you –
your nature, the real you. I'd kneel
here. I'd shield you. Christie, I need you.
A word game I played with myself. Sometimes, I just want to make something pretty.
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