Tantra

                I write with you still on the tip of my fingers … Table scraps of memories and all the places you bring me by the slight twitch and dip of your muscles I know nothing like your brand of love and thrust Not lust, But divinity And…

The Fear

i can’t write tonight i can’t write because my throat has closed, my voice is bubbling beneath the surface, clogged by my own privilege and fear i can’t write because i’m not sure i’m the one you should be hearing from the world is angry and the headlines are scary and i’m watching, listening, waiting for this…

Nobody Has Hands Like Hers

my mami’s hands are always soft like the reindeer named Twinkles who i cuddled with at night she would make up bedtime stories about Twinkles my imagination growing like a sunflower her hands have carried me through loss through happiness through debilitating depression when i was a young girl she sliced her finger open on…

Quiet.

Sometimes the world is just too big. Sometimes, my world is too small. I retrace my steps around old towns; old cities I once lived,old picturesque memories I can still see hanging tangibly in the air around my heels. I read the news; jihadi brides, Russian LGBTQ prosecutions, British votes, America’s First Female President??? And…