Spit It Out

I wish I could get rid of the taste, it is metallic and poisonous, like burnt pious self-righteousness, unpalatable. I want to wash and...

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Divine

I always used to think sentiments were superficial. A couple hugging, a baby crying- all displays, none real. But that moment, at that...

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Of Fruit

I met a woman who told me the creases in my hand held no hope for children or a life-long love. I wondered if the word alone tasted in her...

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Sticks and Stones

You are better than that, so much brighter than spewing and spitting rhetoric. You are morally responsible and dignified. Honor is your...

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Day 302: Bye, Felicia.

I have written a million poems about my body. How she couldn’t stay in her lane, fit in her assigned container, listen to directions. How...

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Archives of My Mind

I’m the archivist of my mind But I lack the proper training to keep a clean house

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Arsonist

I see a corridor and I see it with all its edges. I throw a burning ember on the wooden floor and the mustard wallpaper suddenly shudders;...

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Right Here

The April Mom died, I resisted going East, believing that if I didn’t go, she wouldn’t die. I did not want her spry, wise, funny light...

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