after George Ella Lyon
I am from ruddy skin,
and feet the color of soot after burning.
I am from fire, rage
that smells like burnt flesh and offering.
I’m from hollowed moon
and the waves it commands
to rock me toward rest.
and feet the color of soot after burning.
I am from fire, rage
that smells like burnt flesh and offering.
I’m from hollowed moon
and the waves it commands
to rock me toward rest.
I am from pantyhose seared with topcoat,
and front pew service.
I’m from choir stomp-claps reverberating
off raisined carpet, and
voices big enough to reach the heavens.
and front pew service.
I’m from choir stomp-claps reverberating
off raisined carpet, and
voices big enough to reach the heavens.
From veggie patty to haystacks.
From sunset to sunset.
I’m from Rena & Evelyn,
the women before me, who passed on their stubborn grace.
From Arthur and Patricia;
conjoined by name, marked in permanence.
I am from apologies after the storm,
the women before me, who passed on their stubborn grace.
From Arthur and Patricia;
conjoined by name, marked in permanence.
I am from apologies after the storm,
from hi molly on the comfy couch
to who you think you talking to in my face.
I am from chlorine and greased cheese
blending under hum of happy birthday.
From skin darkened by sun, scrubbed with soap and cloth.
I’m from perm burns and pinched nose,
a body too grown for obedience.
blending under hum of happy birthday.
From skin darkened by sun, scrubbed with soap and cloth.
I’m from perm burns and pinched nose,
a body too grown for obedience.
I’m from longing to be wanted
and wanting to be had.
From bloodied wrists and favorite pants
forced into dumpster,
along with the memories.
I am from those too–
and wanting to be had.
From bloodied wrists and favorite pants
forced into dumpster,
along with the memories.
I am from those too–
remembers lost to wind,
torn from grips too tight,
denying captivity.
