The stories on her skin

  Where do I begin with these stains on my mouth? To talk about myself    what I have lived I am holding up like a cardboard cut out Melancholy restoration, a standing melting pot of flavor Raw turmeric and lemon   My mother gave me lemons for the basket on my head I’ve turned her... Continue Reading →

Perfect Truth

  I do not want to come to Brooklyn even though I miss you I am harmed by sadness a depression you can’t shake I am harmed by moods from another world I am bothered by the smell of mom on you Taken aback by my father on your arms   I love you as... Continue Reading →

Mother, I am a Woman 

Does my mother know? that I am craving sweet and dirty folktales That I am following rhythms cool and slick butter Melting cream   Does my mother see me? building wax figures Drenched in sweat pools Just to find divinity   Is my mother dreaming? of the child I used to be   Weak in... Continue Reading →

Mother, I remember

Mom I don’t remember what happens at the end of why the caged bird sings   I broke innocence. Decent Sex picking up red panties fish shaped bread after it was over.   Mom I Snuck to meet a man who didn’t love me I remember the angle of stars over the Cemetery the drive... Continue Reading →

Van Siclen Blues

I have never stood up for East New York. I let them shit talk and burn it down with laughter. I am ashamed. I have let others rob me of my home. I let a man from Babylon tell me he was afraid of Brooklyn in the daytime. When I asked why he said because... Continue Reading →

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