Poems

“I read the line over and over / as if I might discern / the little fires set / the flames of an idea licking the page”

“Illumination,” Natasha Trethewey

Broken | Poetry

Broken | Poetry

One glove is all he can handle. Two screws set in his arm through the plate and bone. It was dark when it happened, that day in the mill house. The saw shrieked and sheared the blade, stopping with a fleshy thump between the radius and ulna, like the chop of a cleaver...
an interview with olóòkun. | Poetry

an interview with olóòkun. | Poetry

in the religion native to west africa’s yorùbáland, olóòkun is the owner of all oceans. depicted with varying gender presentations both in yorùbáland and throughout the diaspora, olóòkun is also the protector of africans who were carried away during the maafa, the...
Forsyth County Cartography | Poetry

Forsyth County Cartography | Poetry

concrete sidewalks cut through suburbs that dial 911, call ma’am, what’s your emergency? there’s a man outside, praying I think, he’s not from here, he’s not from here—branched streets of three-story houses and flat screen TVs, asbestos walls beyond,...
Death Dresses | Poetry

Death Dresses | Poetry

Death Dresses   A Death Doula? these words come with cop cars; hot frantic alarms incredulity The little girl insideme grew uphad kidsdied in your bed.(hysterical) This town ain’t big enough for the both of us anyway the he/him beard and my little ponies I...
Legacy | Poetry

Legacy | Poetry

Legacy   i click my wrist bones together like two strangers kept captive i nosedive in friction and curve with the depths trapped in gaps where i just                          can’t                                      find my voice yet, there— lain beneath...