And Mina wonders whose fault this is, this eagerness to see her and judge her before she's even stepped off the plane.Read More
Many nights I lie awake,
Remembering the violence
That ferried me into womanhood
Let's be pragmatic: you can't hold on to something that is dissolving in your hands.
red mud bundle where peaceable people retire
and kids end up, end up again
A rapid nib descends, amends once more
A pained farewell through piling drafts of irk.
If I believed in prophets
then my pilgrimage would have started
when I was eight years old.
begin at birth?
some avenue. some narrow,
pitious side street. some
lightening bug carcasses
strung up, still beaming.
Darkness holds the hands of light
In the crescent of the sun
And the birds cry
And the sloths dance
And the elephants beat their drums
When I met your bare skin with mine, innocently enough
- hands in passing, an arm brushing by -
the roar of my heart didn’t reach your ears.
I didn’t hear the beat of your footsteps hesitate outside my door,
the silence a question to which I did not answer
Midnights, you occasionally lingered
in my kitchen,
flicking cigarette ash in my sink
and sipping champagne
from my last plastic cup.
I need a spell.
I need words
that are one
with my Blackness.
my brothers and I robbed a blood bank.
on the news
they called us vampires
and I could not have been happier
that I had become popular
I get to my dorm room only to find Kiya and of course her no good boyfriend Derek there. No, I’m not jealous, but something about him doesn’t sit well with me. However, Kiya looks beautiful with her hair pulled up in curls, matte jewelry, and a silky white dress that looks lovely on her chocolate skin.Read More
He can barely see a foot in front of him
As his paraffin lantern flickers dimly at the entry
His makeshift oxygen tank dries up
And he tries to look at his friend
When you talk about beauty,
your body opens up—like a question.
Ground water swells out of your eyes,
rolls down the quiet side of your face.
at 3 am love exists within self-inflicted fingerprints
all over your lonely mounds of subsaharan sugar caneRead More
These gods are young
and have not yet lived
through the consequences
of their destruction
In queer audiotopia the dance floor is heaven
and God is a black trans woman
On some days, my voice is larger than anything else. I can scream and scream and scream until the whole world doesn’t have a choice but to listen and when I try to do anything, I can do it.Read More