We used to be silly
thinking our love could outlast the summer,
milling
about thrift stores
making homes of tea shops and
cozying up in our bedroom corner
hoping these threadbare blankets would keep us warm
against the cold that set in
unseasonably early.
We were silly
hurling words as if they would dissipate
in open space
and not slowly chafe
at our sensitive parts,
thinking an open palm meant only give when
an open palm also spells want
and we were wont
to fall apart
young and lost and always searching
but never seeing
ourselves.
Month: April 2016
April 8, To be black and alive
Kinky follicles
coiled skyward
–a grave inheritance
April 7th, Urban Poetry
April 6th, Sunset
Steeping bruise purple
sweet tea sunset’s colors seep
in fading day’s sky
April Poem-A-Day #4 Distance
I don’t like the look of you,
all teeth and want,
rough hands
grasping.
Only moments ago
their smooth touch soothed this flesh,
but now it grows cold
as absently, I watch you devour
the offering of these limbs,
watch them sink into the furnace
of your mouth.
April Poem a Day #3 Three Things
Three things I wish I could forget
The way the dimple in your left cheek appeared
when you laughed,
the tiny mark like the imprint
of a grain of rice.
I liked to imagine I put it there,
that I too was a mark
ever present,
even when hidden
under smooth-skinned expression
—-a permanent impression.
April Poem-A-Day #1 Fool
Foolishly I conjure your image,
Dusting off the altar of idols past
As if,
in remembrance paid
these offerings can bring you back
to me.
A-Poem-A-Day
I’ve been neglecting this little blog. A lot has changed which I will talk about in a later update post. For now, this post will be an announcement of A-Poem-A-Day challenge. There are probably various challenges going on (as April is National Poetry Month) but currently I’m doing the one from Writer’s Digest. Each morning in April they will be uploading a prompt for a poem and I will write a poem and post it here. If you’d like to take part in the challenge with me, you can do so at writersdigest.com. Or you could do prompts of your own and write a poem a day as well. Happy National Poetry Month!
and beauty
in the sun’s outstretched fingertips
that drip this sweat
this swelter, this heat
this pitter-patter in the streets,
Listen close enough
and it sounds like the murmur of
hummingbird’s wings but you
won’t find no hummingbirds here,
just the low rattle of these streetcars rush–
–rushing past,
Hiss so loud you swear
you hear the beast of this city rumbling
below you
Hear Miss Etta sing so sweet
on 47th street,
the faint tinkling of coins at her feet,
those feet
who keep walking past and
never stop–
this stomp stomp stomp
is the the beast’s steady heartbeat
don’t you know this city never sleep?