Poetry

Tastes like cardboard, you say, face scrunched, wistful of a mother’s recipe you haven’t yet mastered. I swallow my offense: this may be the last...

I cannot consent to swallow your love cold— down my throat you pour, I choke. At five years we left your stranglehold. From you, my childhood was...

Autumn evening calls, it’s after dinner and we are out the door. It’s dark and it doesn’t matter. Innocent energy unfurls, high-tops hit pavement,...

The sun rises late in the morning and sets early in the evening, a sign that autumn is departing, with its bright colours and crisp leaves, as...

Have you seen the dark at Wounded Knee? Have you seen queens and kings who sing and act in glorious beauty? I have. I have seen queens and they are...

Don’t bury me in a cemetery below the pockmarked blocks that romanticize the forgotten. Bury me next to an abandoned school where memories of...