Sunday’s Hay Field

  sadness is a raw wound wrapped in bandagesliving in the thought of a picnic without dancing antsa family carrying a basket with lost Sundays and sandwiches listening to the radio, pretending to dancebitter the old man who can no longer stand to eat corntoothless, he remembers the river swallowing a closing glance his son, […]

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Josie Was

Josie was a button without a piece of threada child that lost the happy and ended up with dread a dancer with no lessons, shoes, or hopeespecially after seeing dad tie her mom up with rope a sun without the color yellow or a single raya girl that got mad at God because he made […]

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Without An Anchor At Sea

tethered to you, my darling, like a fragile marionettesilk strings made from worms gathering their blue emotionslonging for an overdue petrichor, I yearn for a divine cloud burstmy anchor, yet your strength vacillates floating, sending me out to seastill, after all these years, you do not identify with my mournful delicate marrowjoyful, gardenia scented summer […]

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Cleansing Rain

blood drips from my heartmy silk gown grows thornsblinded by yellow from the start drowning in my own skinflowers grow from fingersa vase of emotions growing thin angry at God, I fall downanother day lily dies slowtears become an ocean of sound my cart is deep with painbrands of scentless sorrownaked, I await the cleansing […]

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Our Smells

tease me slowly, for now, awake I smell your nighttime sweatmingling with our lovemaking, aromas catching my body wethumidity plays a role in the dampness of our pearly pleasuresleepy eyes open, alive, we are now each other’s sated treasure

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My New Poem, “Memories Buried In a Box,” Now Live at MasticadoresUSA

I am honored to be published in MasticadoresUSA (Editora: Gabriela Marie Milton, Director: j re crivello) I am the seasoning in your food, infused with blood-tinged lovegrave diggers plow a hole into my left eye, now crossedblack memories are buried there, along with my visionlifeless in a woeful, cardboard box, are my wedding ringsmy father’s […]

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My New Face

faces are skin for viewing, not for judginghiding one side of mine to forget the slaps it tookI ask us why is it so difficult for us to embrace our look if my face was right, my thin body wrongthe sea’s entire palette of blue surrounded mein my teenage years, something not many bothered to […]

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Ripe Figs, Mustard Greens, and Dance

  lamenting for a taste of fresh figs from childhood trees where, when dipped in sugar,they left a fragrant and honeyed flavor upon a young girl’s tongue seeing elephant ears surrounding the outdoor porch where mom would set a table smelling black-eyed peas cooked with salt pork, mustard greens, and collards fried hush puppies with […]

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My New Poem, “Leaving Blue Doors,” Now Live at Spillwords Press NYC

voiceless rhythms hide conflict behind earless wallscobblestones assembled centuries ago, bask in white lightforgotten names of flowers already seared into my raw fleshpink and crimson colors hovering with their scentexploding like a trap door in the tiny hairs of my nostrilsbarren is his constant silence, which feels like screaminganxiously red eyes stare, as your tall […]

Read More My New Poem, “Leaving Blue Doors,” Now Live at Spillwords Press NYC