M.G.B

Your lips

Look like something I could float on

And when u laugh

That dimple winks at me

As if it knows I’m waiting for it

And if I’m close enough

I can hear your heartbeat

A rhythmic melody

A Smooth and consistent lullaby.

And your hands

Textured and thoughtful

Creeping up my thigh

Just enough to get warm.

I let them stay there long enough

And then I push them to their destination.

So you can explore me in detail

And turn me into a poem.

Titans Hand

I feel myself crumbling

By force

Of a weight that feels like a titans hand

By a burden I’ve given myself

I am atlas.

I watch myself

In the mirror

And there’s questions in my eyes

I am too embarrassed to answer

Even when I’m alone

I’m insincere.

I cry.

A haunting low wail.

Quiet enough to mean something

Not loud enough to share.

I hold my knees as tight as I can

This is how I keep it together.

Fights Aways Start With Always.

Always

You start it with an always.

It comes from the bridge you walk over

Of things you said you’ve forgotten

And you carry that always

Right there in your pocket

And as heavy as it may be

You wield it

Eternally

And then it rains so thunderously

Lightening

and you frighten me

You swear it’s always what I do

You tower over me

and I shout to you

I thought we forgave each other

I forgive you and you add another

To your suitcase you carry through

Our relationship is something blue.

You always do this

I never do.

Coffee Strong.

My legs are strong enough to carry me and your burdens

I carry mine in this purse.

It bounces off my hourglass

As the light countdowns.

I begin before it allows me.

 

My thighs exchange greetings

As I walk to the coffee shop

Necks wind as I sway to the door

 

Dark skin glistening at the counter

A smile.

Black coffee please.

 

“Is someone sitting here?”

My stuff is there. All around this place.

You hold your hands up and acquiesce.

Walking backward for your protection.

 

When I leave I can see noses in the air

Inhaling the fragrance

Gifted to me by my mother

I bring it with me to the street

 

“Fuck you too then bitch.”

I laugh at how that used to make my shoulders rise.

A corner boy with gutter words

Bitch dripping from his fangs.

 

Rejection is bitter

To a pack of wolves.

 

My coffee is stronger than you, boy.

 

Disconnected.

I categorize my habits

And rituals

Tone of voice and name

Second-hand characteristics that were given to me piecemeal

By a woman from Connecticut

And a woman from Georgia.

From a place we assume she called home.

But we say she must not be from there.

 

I can I live in this place

Be born in it

And not be allowed here.

 

But where I am now

In between two worlds.

The duality stretches me from left and right

Pulling at me

Makes me uncomfortable when I contemplate having to choose one

I don’t know Africa.

I have never been.

I was born here. I am not proud of it.

Who should be?