I remember about my past.

my childhood.

it wasn’t good.

It was actually a nightmare.

dark

scary

sad.

I remember a time when I had freedom. Maybe

not freedom, but choices. I could

choose my friends. I could choose

what I wanted to wear. The freedom

to say no, when I didn’t want to do

something.

I lost my favorite cousin

he was at a gas station getting gas

with his daughter

and his daughter’s mother

and someone ran over

and shot him.

freedom’s important

I see very clearly now

the great open space

it’s not much to some people

but to me it’s...everything.

on vacation from myself-damaging life

dedicated to joetta

I care about u

just 2 let you know

cuz I don’t know how

much love I show

A strong black

newbian queen is what

I call you

Repent

As I sit and do this free write

The thoughts going through my head aren’t light

As I think back on my old action times of crisis

Thoughts of things past I would rather dismiss

As I realize I betrayed myself

My mom is like binoculars

She is always looking out for me

My dad is like a unicorn

I’ve never seen him

I have always wondered

what he looks like

If you fall head first

are you falling up?

or to the side?

or in between?

Can you feel heaven

and taste hell?

Can you reach in and pull out,

jump in and jump around?

If you exist but choose to be

It comes in all shapes and sizes

some cute couples,

some odd pairs...

we know who we are.

But despite the fact that commonly,

this world leads us to believe

that clash will always lead to

-conflict

Over the quivering surface of the stream,

The moon issued a silent scream.

The fog of war flowed silently adrift,

The pain of the night was silent and swift.

A moth fluttered in the silent breeze,

Surrounded by the scent of death and disease.

I walk outside

Everything seems so dark

Have only the stars

To give me light

Wind blows the grass

Makes the leaves dance

Swirls in my hair

Carries away my every care

And the stars

Twinkle down on me

Notorious Victoria,

Malicious Victoria,

Sweet kind and loving Victoria.

Multiple personalities,

An ongoing personification,

Can create,

In itself a problem,

Don’t you think,

Vic-tor-ia

I want to scramble away

I want to scream

I want to shout

I want to fight back

No...

No...

I need to scramble away

I need to scream

I need to shout

I need to fight back.

Or do I?

Life is a never-ending coil

With twists and turns

And you are one thing that I did not count on.

You are the mistake in a waltz.

1

2

3

1

2

3

1

2

3

4

when I offered you a heart full of love

you answered,

like this woman in a toy store

when I tried to spend a two-dollar bill

a relative had given me

years ago, when I was young . . .

I could hear the waves crashing above me

as I dove into the deep, dark, sea.

I felt the coral so sharp,

as I saw my hand glazing over it.

There was silence everywhere,

yet at the same time, noise

sounded in all places.

You may think that color paints the Earth, but really you're wrong.

The things we say have been the culprits all wrong

Take this book, take a look inside,

Don’t you see the things we should use with pride?

They fill our hearts, our minds, our soul,

Dear 34B,

I thought that this was going to be a normal flight.

I got to the airport two hours early. Exactly on schedule.

I took my seat in 34A. By the window.

I went through all the motions. Cell phone turned off.

I read about you

in my horoscopes and in a relatable tweet last week

as soon as I saw you, I knew those were written about you

When you asked me who I thought you were and I didn’t have an answer, I was worried. Why does my brain not instantly generate poetry when I think about how beautiful you are? Now that I have an answer I am terrified.

He’s got you stuck in his teeth.

Remember, summer?

          Well, tell me:

Why’d you leave him and I alone in the blue tiled bathroom?

Remember, summer?

The one with the blood stained floors that we sat on for hours.

in orchards of lemon trees

we tiptoe, under the hanging yellow fruit

in blue moonlight, we will stay until

orange light leads us inside

My mother mourns leaving her own country so deeply it runs through her veins into mine. Bangladesh is what she knows and what she loves. She spends her time showing me her culture: spinning through dances, running through poetry, and wading through history.

The sound of the train past midnight

And a clear sort of light seek my room and cheeks

Leaving the layers of darkness, moon, and house light stale and stark

As if the lighter colored sheaths of air in the dark are unbreathable

Egg-yolks blooming in serenity

baba’s palms turn upwards

black dirt falling on the sun.

The fruit of baba’s hands

covered in spines

twisted but not the wicked way

that punctures skin.

Serpentine limbs extend in search of

sometime before the clock hit eleven,

i thought of you.

i imagined the threat your caressing fingers possess

as they trace targets on the side of my belly.

I envy the stories

They tell.

Of the East

And the West.

Of bare feet,

Guava trees,

Roasted fava beans.

Of tin water pails

That held curly-haired children

To keep the dust off their feet.

I will never call a Latino “papi”

sino héroe, soldado, sobreviviente

Brother in bondage, sibling in survival

The chains of the Hispanic clink with those of his Black cellmate

We languish under the same white gall

Too long we have forgotten

The story of breath in our lungs

Depending on who you ask

We started from clay, dust,

Half of a ribcage, the salt of the

Earth, the water of the sea;

The old gods.