Poetry
A Bargain Made in the Monster’s Shadow
They say a mountain vista looks loveliest in the golden hour, and
lunar landscapes most fully reveal themselves in quarter moons;
light and dark embrace to lift each other.
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Poetry
Poetry
Good Morning, Wolf—
Your mouth is a red door of blossoming velvet. I knock three times, your belly skinned, an open tender thing. I peel back fur; your insides flower wet against my touch.
Poetry
consumed
my lover has peculiar tastes;
her cravings are unnatural.
she apologises for her appetite
Poetry
graveyard of butterflies
in my vision, I taste happiness. I watch the sun’s dance & listen to the music of laughter. I run through a garden & somehow, I am a child again, trying to catch butterflies but they keep slipping through my fingers; like happiness, like love, like everything else I chase.
Poetry
Zooming Past Shotgun Houses
I captured the sorrow you sent me
like a star
it burned my palm
when it promised to nourish
Poetry
when i die
when i die i like
to think about the life
i lived. i like to be
alive again every time
Poetry
At the Sight of My Grave, I Stumble
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
Poetry
Blacula
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.
Poetry
Futakuchi onna speaks of the Kamaitachi
I.
Simple, tiny blood-cuts on a calf.
She cut herself shaving. The wind whipped
weasel-clawed, in circles around her legs.
Poetry
Stillborn
This poem was written in response to the LandBack movement and as part of the brainstorming process for my unpublished cli-fi novel The Everwhen.
