Love: An Education

Gathered with sibling and parents

at the dinner table, I watch

my father’s long, mahogany arm

stretch over to my mother, seated

at his side, and knead her neck

like dough, teaching me a lesson:

sometimes keeping two souls tied

does not require words.

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My History with Language

On Giving Thanks

On Giving Thanks

Foundling

Blog Post 3

This poem was originally published in Issue 19 of Fathom Magazine.

What Anxiety tells me

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Testimony of a Door

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Look at me, my

Frankenstein of a body,

genesis of Mahogany

limbs. Notice this skin,

faded casualty

of sunlight, rain,

passing age.

I’m positioned

at the onset of incident,

like battering rams

serving no-knock warrants or

fists demanding entry.

Consider me a sentry

armed with cognizance

of things concealed

behind my back, 

how closed rooms,

offices and residences deceive.

Concerning Hope

 

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