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
Life’s simple rules stare down on me

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
nonexistent, are you real?

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
and conflict just its own,

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
Like diamonds on velvet

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?
The voices tell me not to,

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 . . .
Keep it. It may be worth something someday.

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.
You were late. The last one on.

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.
          Well, tell me:

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
hands to hold

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
Asian men rattle wire fences in

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.