Born into the place I despise.

Growing in the green,

not seeing what could be.

Suffocating siblings,

pets galore,

always wanting more.



Colorado was my safe place,

one mountain to the next.

A little spot in the heartland,

A little spot in your heart.

Where families are created,

And legacies carry on.

Where meals are around a table,

And the front of a fridge is your trophy case.

Where names are recycled,

Warm evenings -

a slight breeze with the scent of smoked ham

and cornbread for dinner.

BROWN BODIES come out when the streetlights do

FOR FEAR OF BEING SEEN,

dancing and singing to Motown.

Turning bodies into wine

Perhaps the first

Was the open sky

Infecting above the carpeted ground.

Books astray in an old wicker basket,

Just enough room for a girl to climb in.

Crayons drawing, thoughts wild; just

imagine at your fingertips

The World.