About last night (a poetic)

Legs twined. Our fingers climbed each other through the night. Scarves undone. My locks tangled yours Little brown vines. Inhale the moment Before memory wakes us – We are supposed to be angry About something Inconsequential. We use eggshelled silence To mask the sleep in our step. Courteous and unremarkable We play at passive anger…

White Silence #whiteviolence (a poem)

I was at the [too docile] march on Washington today (which, as a 25-year-old in twenty-first century America, theory says shouldn’t have been necessary for the reasons it is – but that will be another story). Many thoughts running over my mind, including the question by some. You probably have asked it yourself. This is…

too open, honest – micropoems

(would be said) I. Trying not to think about How it feels at night Your skin, mine i. How good it feels To be so tied At the soul and mind Unbreakable ii. How lost then In silent bribe accepting To cut my tongue Sake of your peace II. I’ll never stop wanting To mimic…