remembering moonlight

i know all too well what Juan means when he says “In moonlight black boys look blue.”   i know those blues. i know moonlight in my memory. i remember being told that hours after birth, my dark-skinned father  took one look at my lighter skin and determined i must be the product of my mother’s sin. … Continue reading remembering moonlight

imperial desire (or why won’t donald die)

  all of his orgasms were made of blood he spoke of economies of ecstacy, preservation, and saving the world from doom with a sour mouth that feasted on the death of powers which he absorbed into himself and transmuted into pleasure tongue strokes from the mouth of a viper imputing venom translucent and sticky … Continue reading imperial desire (or why won’t donald die)

stilletto

i have always wanted to walk on air wear heels, high up lifted above life no dirt on the bottom feet renewed through fasting and giving up the ground I found something sublime in the lift something pure in the abstinence and always believed dirt is a complicated thing on heels i might avoid treading … Continue reading stilletto

the soiling

  he fingered her lace, widening the holes, little to no regard that they would never shrink to their original size. it was skin, delicate and servile, ornamental in his eyes. in the end, her porous body was broken, shattered, like silver fragments of mirror reflections of fading brightness, shining even in decline. she held … Continue reading the soiling