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

making space

we r a not of this world ppl n the absence of places 2 b / we hav mooovd ourselves 2 other planets / planted our colorless flags on invisible cratered space / & called dibs on a new moon on our moon we breathe free / & never worry of foot on neck / … Continue reading making space

foul

  black people stood in line for chicken sandwiches and i was unspeakably ashamed then i thought of sunday dinners in church fellowship halls where we ate bird to put back the things we gave to god and it was holy in haiti the neck is wrung with fierce violence after makeshift passover where blackfoot … Continue reading foul

the burnt pieces

she baked her love in a cake. i remember it in a dimly lit dining room with candles bright enough to burn me me down. i have two scars, one on each buttock. one from a lit firecracker my sibling stuffed into my back pocket, burning me down.  he gave me the other with pliers … Continue reading the burnt pieces

untitled

the very first time i kissed you we were breathing water we came together in the gut your mother's underground platos cave of another kind we lit candles inside her to see one another's face and warm her through the making of love drowned in the lake of her commitment we drank its broth from … Continue reading untitled