University: “Come. Let’s take a certain kind of trip with mainly dead white men. You’ll never be the same again.”
An arm extends, an ankle twists, a body drops, a phone rings, a dog barks, feet shuffle, an alpha male cries. Anonymous pain, we’re all living it.
There exists a type of person that sings jubilantly throughout the day and cries softly throughout the night.
I’m looking at a little girl through a library window. She’s dancing in the parking lot calling her older sister to join in. She’s a chubby little black girl and when she’s grown, she will not be considered beautiful. I think: I hope she loves herself.
Posted April 18, 2012 at 5:27pm
Blameless.
He was a certain type of white, and I – a certain type of black.
He said, “you were fun for a while.”
His next was named Jen.
Posted April 12, 2012 at 2:38pm
by definition
that her role is to nurture never occurred to her
between the bloody lips, empty promises and profanity
mother - a gentle protector,
such a definition she’d never known
exercise: write a description of your bedroom
The pasty white walls are four empty canvases except for the black-framed mirror on the wall adjacent to the door. The pink carpet is blanketed by books and balls of my afro-kinky hair. A prayer rug of muted browns and beiges lays near my two-door closet. It is ruffled from the many prostrations of humbled bodies. A bed fixed in the centre is an imposing object where love is made, fights are had, and morning light settles. Today, but not yesterday, dirty clothes stack high on one side awaiting cleanliness. There are traces of him. He exists because his scent lingers and his clothes make love with mine.
