Don’t Talk. Don’t Feel.
I feel it and I am going to talk about it. Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn - “Bed Stuy” Bed Stuy is beating up your mother and asking you, “What are you going to do about it, punk?” Bed Stuy is looking outside onto the street and in between patches of icy, crunching...
I Don’t Remember
Trigger warning. This poem contains a traumatic event. I don’t rememberthe first three years of my life.But my gut remembers.My heart knows the truth. Frozen terror within.Terrified of daddy-Monster,the volcano in my home.I must hide from him, but I can’t. One simple...
Petty Retaliation
I was fourteenand sick of daddy-Monster’s violence.I did not know who I was.I had heard too many lies. Too many beatings.Too many slaps across the face.Too many unpredictable eruptions.Too much terror. Too much ridicule.Too many disparaging comments.Too many hostile...
Bridge of Light
The space between “Me” and “I am”Is the place where wrong meets don’t belong.Self and identity, privileges deniedI struggle to breathe and learn to hide. Here on the shore of a foreign seaBuried treasure revealed at low tide sweepStarving gull pecks at scraps and...