Poetry
Budding Rose
In the quiet nights of winter
The air sighs with an icy chill
Seven People You Already Know
Monday grips a pen
Neurotic scribbles fill a blank page
Queer Utopia
You just are, no need to play a part
Names and Pronouns and Sexuality
Can change as easily as the seasons
It is accepted and no less normal
An Elephant?
One bite at a time
my mother says as it sits there
in my kitchen
blowing dish-soap bubbles
through its pool-noodle nose.
My First Pride
It fills my body
Fills my body so full of light
I am almost bursting at the seams with
Joy so infectious I cannot avoid it if I wanted to
Self-Portrait
I can’t bear
To draw self-portraits of myself.
I don’t trust mirrors
And I don’t trust my eyes.
The Indelible and Invisible
Aethiopia, Abyssinia, Askum, Kush
All names thrown around by history books, by scholars
Attempting to intellectualize, rationalize, standardize
the place my parents call home
Holy Ghost
I blame you for everything –
I blame myself for even more.
I’m dumb and stubborn; you, careless.
