Poetry
Zooming Past Shotgun Houses
I captured the sorrow you sent me
like a star
it burned my palm
when it promised to nourish
I captured the sorrow you sent me
like a star
it burned my palm
when it promised to nourish
when i die i like
to think about the life
i lived. i like to be
alive again every time
First,
There is the procession of the snakes.
A wave of speckled heads with their thrilling patterns,
the tangle of their bodies as they weave
The first line began as the heart of a much larger story about a group of Queer, Black vampires. But the more I ruminated on this question, the more paths I followed that revealed so many different ways death, undeath, and resurrection have been central to being Queer and Black in America.
I.
Simple, tiny blood-cuts on a calf.
She cut herself shaving. The wind whipped
weasel-clawed, in circles around her legs.
This poem was written in response to the LandBack movement and as part of the brainstorming process for my unpublished cli-fi novel The Everwhen.
I was reading Genesis but I kept imagining everything happening where I grew up, in my childhood home. When I reached the part about Lot and his daughters, I became fixated on them. I never finished reading Genesis. This poem came out of that.
I wrote this poem as a critique of certain political parties that espouse pro-life policies for “life” in the womb but won’t lift a finger to enact laws to help children once they’re actually born (anti-gun legislation, free healthcare and school lunches, etc.). They regard children as disposable fodder.
CW: intent to harm an animal. Writing this piece felt like a hard look in the mirror. I wanted to be honest and vulnerable about feeling helpless, about the true cost of being a bystander. So, I anchored those ideas to the time in all of our lives when we have almost no agency or […]
Money rituals are inhumane practices carried out by different traditional religions in Nigeria. They, unfortunately, contribute to and are influenced by the kidnapping problem in the country.