"The white fathers told us, "I think, therefore, I am" and the black mother within each of us – the poet – whispers in our dreams, I feel, therefore I can be free."- Audre Lorde

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

four days with god

i am
with fists
clenched pounding
on your legs
like towers
they loom high
i lay small
by your feet
crying, punching, cursing
those legs
all i can reach.

i am with absence
on a bed
arms crossed
door closed
distance for spite
silent but you hear
your ear to the door
i left you

crying on the other side.
with breath
i scream
in sleep
I hate you
but you creep in
and kneel
on those knees
that were always too tall to see
you kneel by the bed
i swore you from
and with one big hand
you gently sweep one small strand
of hair from my eye
and kiss my head.

You drink orange juice
while i pace
wondering how many oranges
it takes
to quench you.
you stand
i sit
and once more
your legs
are all i see.
.my god,my god.

Monday, June 14, 2010


I was five
the first time they found
in her body
they found it
in a freckle
the one i use to talk to
by her belly button
they found it
and i found her
crying as she brushed her
long blond hair
crying as it fell out
after clump
after clump.
in her room
with a fist full
of golden locks.
strand after beautiful strand
tangled tightly around the shower drain
lying mockingly by her pillow
wound painfully amid the bristles
of a brush soon deemed enemy.
I remember chemo was the word that
made it real
as if it took baldness and vomit
to remind us all
she was dying inside.
I remember she let me touch her head
and it felt like a kiwi
I remember not knowing
how not be to afraid.
I remember when I found him,
my dad
sobbing quietly on the bathroom floor.
I never told him
I saw
his tears then for the first
and last time.
He never found me
through the creak of the door
and they never found me
hiding under their bed
as my mom would
pray and vomit
with violent sorrow
for hope to find.
to find.
They found more cancer in her
not for the first, or second or even third time
they found it
An 18 year struggle
after an 18 year fight

and still its the word chemo
that scares me
and still it's the thought of my mommy's own baldness
that makes me shake with fear
because its this that
visually and constantly remindes me
that the cancer is real.
and still
you do not find me
beneath the bed
it is me
i now find
praying and vomiting
in violent sorrow
for hope
to be found.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

This time coming home meant leaving it behind.

snail coitus makes me smile