Monologue 1

This one I think is meant to be performed. When I wrote it, it sounded like a monologue. Someone telling whoever would listen how she fucked up her plants.

Forgiveness requires peace

For so long I was afraid of your hands and The boom in your voice And in my later years I learned how you seared my mother’s skin With your fingertips when the scars Seemed to appear on my arms In between my legs And underneath my bra Somewhere near my uterus So the fearContinue

Ancestors

I wrote this poem about healing through our mothers, particularly from the pain of sexism and racialized gender violence. Take a little dirt from the ground Press your hands in firmness Drizzle some of your mother’s Milk into its cracks Wet the places where it seems Hard and broken Lay the pile of mud OntoContinue

Broken Body

Go and repair thoseBroken limbsThat torn faceAnd cracked smile You are lying thereIn the chalk outline of that dayReplaying a hazy memoryOn the backs of your eyelids Unclear whether your handsAnd feet and legsAnd lips are yoursWhether you, are yours Stand and mend yourRuptured appendixSew the slit in your chestSending blood into your stomach WhereContinue