Almost a month ago now, I traveled to Los Angeles for the Annual Lambda Literary Writers Retreat. It was incredible. I spent 7 days working under Kazim Ali and bonding with the most incredible poets I have ever met. I am so grateful for my time there. I finished my third manuscript and learned how to write a ghazal.
The poem below is for my cohort…I love you all! xoxox
6.26.15 Observation Poem
Spiraled cherry blossom gusts against brown skin
Ferry themselves delicate, much like salt and pepper curls atop head.
I wonder what your quiet looks like burst open,
Ripped to beautiful shreds and drizzled with fresh squeezed lemon.
If open wore purple vans, it would dance in the ripples
Against polka dot canvas, shade you color: never gray.
When your ancestry litters this space with sound,
How will you react? Do they split white bone? Undo the mend?
Tuck your prayers between perfectly coiffed tendrils, hold them there.
Let them run down shower drain before evening’s rest.
Shuttle your words like activation switch, turn tongue to bombs,
Set timer, count d o w n to one.
Space is requested as if your body, doesn’t already exist
Spilling over like Pabst Tall Boy can in fraternal hands.
She covers her mouth before serpents slide out
Rainbow elongated syllable; guardian of six year old self.
#grinder: a beautiful prose tumble tucks
Itself tunnel, opens the door to grief.
She sounds like hummingbird chatter all fast wings
And pursue sound with rare audible hum.
There is a house, in her chest, shimmering roof shingle
Made of backward letter and forward move.
Oceans of zombie limbs strewn across barren field,
Feet make imprints, on flesh, anyway.
It is never as simple as a bridge on a Tuesday
Or woman’s flat ass, examine what whiteness makes.