Category: Poetry

I’m discouraged by the way my daughter treats me as if somehow, I deprived her of what she needs, denied her the complete expression of one of her gifts, gave her the wrong look when she was vulnerable, the reason I’m now a...

I’m here to grow, I think, the words a vague promise told to keep children in line until they learn a new fable. What have I made? I ask, looking at the yard. How have I progressed? What have I inflated into, and if I’m...

By the time I got back, he had lined up words on the window still, sideways, as if they were books in a library. If I wished to understand what he wanted to say, I had to read them one at a time in reverse chronological order....

Still life defined By absence— Not an auspicious start For any affair. Where will this lack Of circumscription end? Why should it stop At the brunt edges of frame? What else is missing From the other versions Of reality we...

On our way from carrying A load of winter-sprung rocks To the hedgerow, We check the bluebird boxes. For lack of measuring tape or string, We break pieces of dry grass To measure the dimensions Of one box in need of a new...

when curtain rises the cargo choreographer, perched on four-ton steel steed executes his performance. he launches unleashing a shrink-wrap lasso, binding boxes branded with a sticker slap. massive serving fork slides into a pine...

wood veins on ivory sky, back-lit by moon, up-lit by snow. two owls perched, juxtaposed on limbs, whispering to wake you from tormented sleep. we sat on the floor, embracing bare, mesmerized by their duet. you asked me to send...

On May 25th 2020 George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man died in Minneapolis, MN after Derek Chauvin, a white police officer, knelt on Floyd’s neck for 8 mins. & 46 secs. in the event i am pregnant, i pray it’s not a...

I don’t know what you were thinking as your life was painfully slipping away. I hope and pray the unjust suffering that robbed all who loved you of all that was you suddenly and forever shrank to a fleeting memory. Lost in the...

“Beautiful,” I think as I pick it up in the desert, a rib with the sharpened edge of a knife. Not a smidgeon of flesh or meat stuck to it, just the smooth, wind-polished bone pure as a chip of ice melting to nothing in this...

All day I drove through Arkansas on curved roads until I felt I was circling home. I arrived, at last, at evening to a bulls-eye in the Ozarks, to a house with pond and meadow, shed, cellar and garden–this place of Mother...

My hair isn’t meant to be touched! It isn’t meant to be played with on the outside, it is meant to be celebrated. And really now is the time to be happy for I got my little Afro hair and really it is when I decided to comb it...