THE MOON WON’T BE DARED
The monster has a name The monster has a face Striding over the tender fields of my soul— You keep the monster in your heart You cannot set him free He runs your mind Holds your body in the mirror When is he you? When are you he? I don’t Read more
You are like these slippers
This is what my pa told me – You are like these slippers You are a guest You think this is your country But it is not your home You are just a guest Don’t commit a crime They might deport you Don’t make mistakes They might jail you But Read more
They Could Guillotine a Baby’s Hand: A Foster Mother’s Story
The narrow wooden bench creaks and bows every time someone sits next to me. It arcs so deeply when a heavy man sits in the very middle, two feet away from my tight clasp of the built-in armrest at the end, that I fear the old wooden fibers are spreading Read more
January 20th, 2014.
An unbroken blue-brown gaze brightening a dimly lit winter’s day— spellbound, perplexed, or simply intrigued— as caustic wit, Offset by caustic wit, joy-twisted still-frosted cheeks into Cabernet-toothed smiles where the paint-chipped Ceilings and Mezzanines agree. Shadow figures, braving sleet, paraded past our ice-glazed windows, ignored. Maneless faces shimmered Read more
Let Me Lie
Let me lie in my vomit Don’t wash my feathers with your tears They’re piercing me like blunt nails puncturing Jesus on the cross My wings hang heavy on the brink of my failures Their weight breaks my backbone Regrets taste like dust and mold in my mouth I’ve never Read more
Souvenirs of a rape victim
left behind in broken bits her scattered shadows dribble into eerie crevices spider webs and souvenirs of your violated presence henna palm stains as you pushed scratched on walls ankle bell trinkets unhinged scattered in shock rusty red patches as you scavenged of flesh that dripped into his stale breath Read more
Birdwatcher
Why does our new house always feel dark? Some nights, the darkness steals my sleep, seeping from the corners of my bedroom. Is the house gloomy, or the people inside? The backyard looks so light, so bright, but it’s merely the snow’s reflection. My mother has a new bird book, Read more