The Poetry Marathon

20 Little Poetry Projects Prompt (abbreviated) 

the spray of ocean bites into my skin, sharp sting 

the sky is only blue if that’s what you decide 

andre was born in detroit, murdered there too 

ocean nestles against my shins like a familiar cat 

this is the hottest summer 

the ocean is full of plastic, is ever filling still 

ocean is a cauldron, bubbling full of hot plastic 

and carcasses and bodies and drapetomaniacs 

in the name of innovation, in the name of progress 

what came first?

the freedom or the dying 

i mean dying is a freedom

the earth will heat

the ozone will melt 

the viruses will spread

we will keep dying

we will keep killing 

we will keep being killed

empires will fall 

there will be carnage

it will be terrifying before it is beautiful 

it is terrifying now 

the past draped about us like a cloak

after diana khoi nguyen

the present tied tightly to our feet like skates

the future sliding underneath 

and out in front 

and out behind

and all around 

like a body of water somewhere cold

turning to ice

layer by layer

eventually thick enough 

to hold it all

coming & going

what does one do when the words run out
when they don’t flow as easily
can’t get stuck in your throat if you can’t imagine them to begin with

what happens when you’ve suppressed your feelings for so long you can’t find them anymore
if a tear falls and you ignore it, are you really crying?

what happens when the words come back
a rush, a hurricane and they just won’t stop and you don’t know what to do and you can’t breathe

what happens when you don’t let the feelings come back
what if you don’t want them to?

friends

my friends are godsent
heaven made
full of stardust and sunlight
truly otherworldly

their strength is better than the best wifi connection
their love is warmer than an overheated iphone
this support stronger than the u.s. backing israel

my friends are earth shakers
home makers
i am so lucky to have this village
so lucky to have this chosen family

procrastination

moonbeams bouncing off brown skin
brown coffee sits on my bedside table
the kind of hush that you can only find after 2am
you, resting peacefully
the consistent rise & fall of your chest
your delicate snores
a reminder of your presence
a reminder of this love
me, typing quickly
regretting my procrastination as the hours fly by
closer and closer to my deadline

outside the window i see fog kissing the grass
boundary between land and sky temporarily erased
if only it were that damn easy to break down borders

i take a sip of coffee
the warmth runs down my throat
i smile to myself and continue typing
soon i’ll be done with this paper and wrapped in the warmth of you

children of blood and bone
with too much magic coursing through their veins
children with brown skin and murdered parents
trying to change a world they were never wanted in

apply liberally

last night my friend asked me if i had explored the area that i’m staying in this summer
Emory University
Druid Hills
surrounded by white, liberal domesticity
i said yes
explained the trauma of last june that happened down the street from where i’m living now

perfectly landscaped lawns
colorful flowers carefully arranged
only for their neighbors consumption
don’t look too suspicious walking through their neighborhood
don’t look too Black
don’t look too poor
too other
if you stop long enough you won’t smell roses
but you can smell the stench left from the murder of indigenous people

the irony of a ‘black lives matter’ yard sign in a gated community
we know you hunt us here
irony of a “no hate welcome here” sign paired with an american flag
like it’s not american borders & american ice agents that are separating (re:murdering) families
like it’s not america funneling money into the israeli state

i should’ve said
what is their to familiarize myself with
i should’ve said
they don’t want me here anyway

sometimes it feels like i live in a memory
feels like i’ve done this before
hurt like this, loved like this, laughed like this
it’s like deja vu
but somehow it’s still new
somehow i still don’t know what to do

an ode to my body

i say a prayer to my skin every morning
a ritual of water, lotion, & lavender essential oil
candles lit
hymns flowing around me
recognition of my divinity
taking inventory of the terrain
the varying hues of brown
eczema scars (meaning delicate)
stretch marks (meaning growth) 
uneven tan lines (meaning sun kissed)
hair everywhere society tells me it shouldn’t be (meaning fuck you)

i said a prayer to my
body this morning
when i shaved my head
when i let go of my small curls
let go of my larger worries

this isn’t a love/hate relationship
these bones can’t afford to harbor anymore hate
but love isn’t always easy
in love there are still apologies
still insecurities
in love there is still harm
but most importantly there is always softness
always care

I AM (2019)